Lyrics from 'tis the damn season, I Can Do It With A Broken Heart and Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift.

What was supposed to be a quick Christmas nap yesterday afternoon lasted until 9:30 pm. I woke groggy and cranky. Heading to the kitchen, I scarfed down some leftovers, and went back to bed, grateful that everyone else had already turned in for the night. If anything, I was more exhausted than before my siesta. One might think that reliving the memory of last Christmas, in excruciating detail wasn't exactly refreshing; reliving the last time I'd fought with Ranger, slept with Ranger, and said goodbye to Ranger. Who would've thought? Of all the memories from last year I'd packed away and tried to forget, that one I wanted to remember the least, and with our tumultuous history, that was saying something. I'd wrapped that memory in plastic, weighed it down with cinder blocks, and tossed it off a bridge in the back of my mind like a mob hitman with a body, hoping for it never to resurface, no such luck. But at least when I went back to sleep I fell into a blissful, dreamless slumber. When I woke in the morning I felt much better, the smell of coffee and blueberry muffins no doubt lifting my mood. I made a pit stop in the bathroom and followed my nose downstairs to the wonderful aroma that can only come from fresh baked goods. In my still sleepy state, I narrowly avoided a disaster on my way to the kitchen, nearly tripping over the luggage unexpectedly lined up in the dining room. Was I being evicted from my childhood home? On second glance, I noticed they weren't my suitcases and remembered my flight didn't leave for another week.

"Good morning Stephanie," my mom greeted as she poured me a cup of coffee and set it on the kitchen table alongside the cream and sugar. I mumbled a response, the heaping plate of streusel-topped blueberry muffins that waited for me holding all of my focus. Quickly doctoring my coffee, I took a big swig before being capable of any actual conversation.

"What's with the suitcases?" I asked around my first bite of muffin.

My mom was bustling about, putting away the clean dishes from the drying rack. "We got a call last night from your Great Aunt Shirley. Uncle Isadore passed away in his sleep. Your Dad, Grandma, and I are leaving at noon to go help her with all the arrangements." Her voice was very matter-of-fact, not cold, but not emotional either. Great Aunt Shirley was my Grandma Mazur's older sister, and her husband Isadore had one foot in the grave for as long as I could remember, so there was no shock to the news, maybe even some relief. "You're welcome to come if you'd like. We'll probably be gone for a week or so."

I paused, my coffee cup halfway to my lips. "Um, I think I'll pass if that's okay." I didn't know Great Aunt Shirley or Uncle Isadore that well. When I was a kid we saw them maybe once every three years. The last time was at my wedding to the Dick. They'd retired to Destin, Florida when I was in grade school and rarely made it to Trenton. The idea of riding in a car with my parents for two days to sit around on plastic slip-covered furniture from the 70s did not sound like how I wanted to spend the rest of my holiday break.

"That's okay dear. I'm just sorry we have to miss out on the rest of your visit." I was sorry too, sort of. I loved my family, and I loved the holidays, but this was the first time since I was in college that I was at home for the holidays, meaning staying, eating, sleeping, and showering in my childhood home the entire time. When I lived in Trenton I could pop in and out, but then seek refuge in my apartment when it got to be overwhelming. It wasn't so bad before Christmas because there was always something to do, some preparations that needed to be made. But that period between Christmas and New Year's under the same roof with three other people and no real plans would have driven me batty. I didn't think that was something my mom wanted to hear though.

"That's okay Mom. It can't be helped." I felt a little guilty, but not guilty enough to go with them.

The plan for the day had been to go for coffee and shopping with Mary Lou, Connie, and Lula, but plans had changed. Mary Lou's kids had picked up some sort of bug at one of the million family Christmases they'd attended in the last few days and as she so eloquently put it, 'had it coming out both ends.' Ick. Lenny always worked as much as possible over the holiday break, the time and a half helping to pay for the gifts they'd splurged on. But he'd be back in the late afternoon so we changed plans and decided on going for drinks instead. Lula insisted on driving, picking us all up, and heading out to a bar in Lawrenceville, wanting to check out a new place she'd heard about.

The building that housed The Brookdale Bar and Grill had very obviously been an Applebee's in a previous life. They boasted the largest mozzarella sticks in the state, weighing in at a full pound each. While that was insane, the real draw was the alcoholic milkshakes. The boozy, sweet, and creamy concoctions came in every flavor imaginable and then some. While it was nice to see my friends, it was also eye-opening and a little sad for me. We all chatted, caught up on each other's lives, and gossiped. Well, they gossiped. I was out of the loop, having been gone for a year, and more importantly, I found I didn't give a shit about who in the Burg was pregnant, getting divorced, fired from their job, or having an affair. I didn't judge my friends for indulging in their chatter, it was a way of life here, but like everything else expected of women in the Burg, I wanted no part of it. It just reinforced for me yet again, this wasn't where I belonged anymore. Recognizing the distance that had grown between myself and my friends was a little depressing, but I just tried to enjoy our time together and not dwell on it. I answered questions about my job and what my life was like now. Since I felt like it hadn't been that exciting thus far, I steered the conversation towards making New Year's Resolutions and my plans for the coming year. We hung out for a couple of hours, but soon Mary Lou had to get back to the kids, Lula had a hot date and Connie had a family dinner. The Rosollis were family with a capital F, there was no missing Family Dinner.

We were about to shuffle out of the half-circle booth when three handsome faces I knew very well walked in. "Ladies," Lester greeted us all with winks and nods that would make Joey Tribiani proud. I waited for him to say, 'How you doin'?' But it never came. Bobby and Tank followed in his wake, their greetings much more demure.

"Ladies," Tank gave us a nod and a brilliantly white smile.

"Can we buy you ladies a drink?" Bobby offered, his manners impeccable as always. Connie and Lula made their excuses and Mary Lou simply blushed profusely, like she did each time she encountered one of the unnaturally handsome Merry Men.

Lester turned his sights on me. "You can stay, can't you Beautiful?" When he gave me his puppy dog eyes, I hesitated for only a minute. I missed the time I spent with the guys. While I loved hanging out with my girlfriends, it was the Merry Men who truly understood me. I'd shared life and death experiences with these guys, and that was the sort of thing that tends to form pretty strong bonds. It would be nice to catch up, besides, there was no one at my parents' house to miss me anyway. I could stay out all night if I wanted. Just the thought made me laugh. I was getting too old for that. At my age, a perfect night generally consisted of ice cream, binge-watching one of my comfort shows, and being in bed by nine.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Sure. I can stay." I gave hugs to Mary Lou, Lula, and Connie before sliding back into the booth, flanked by Bobby and Lester, with Tank on the other side of Bobby. While there had been plenty of room with the girls, including our purses and coats, the Rangemen filled the space more fully. It wasn't crowded, but comfortable. A sense of rightness filled me when I found myself surrounded by all of them again after so much time away.

We'd barely gotten seated when the waitress appeared. She must have just come on shift because she wasn't the same one who served us earlier. I would've noticed, this woman was drop-dead gorgeous. She had long shiny dark hair with just enough curl to look like she'd just come from the hairdresser after a Brazilian blowout. Her face was heart-shaped, naturally pretty, with only a little makeup. She couldn't have been more than 5' 4" tall, her curvy body accented by her snug-fitting jeans, topped with an oversized cropped sweatshirt bearing the bar's logo, the wide neck hanging off one shoulder, exposing the strap of her lacy camisole. She was one of those perfect girls who probably woke up that way. I could've easily hated her if she wasn't so sweet. She greeted us with a big smile as she gathered the empty plates and glasses.

"Hey, welcome to Brookdale. I'm Charlie and I'll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you guys?" While she was attentive to all of us as we ordered, it was obvious that her focus was on Lester. The guys all ordered beer. I'd already had a boozy s'mores milkshake with marshmallow vodka and didn't want to switch to beer, for fear of a wicked hangover tomorrow. Mixing alcohol never agreed with me. A second shake would have been too much so I ordered a Dirty Shirley with Tito's.

Tank squirmed after the waitress walked away. "Why do you have to do that to me? It freaks me out." He grimaced at my drink choice.

I shot him a grin, "I know. That's half the fun of it."

Bobby and Lester said at the same time, "What?" confused by our interaction.

"My mom's name is Shirley. Steph orders that drink just to make me uncomfortable." Tank grumbled.

I laughed, "No I don't. It's a great drink. Making you uncomfortable is just an added bonus." It was true. I'd grown up feeling fancy on the rare occasions I could order a Shirley Temple at dinner with my family or a wedding. When I found out there was an adult version, it became my go-to cocktail.

Tank gave me the stink eye, "Yeah but I know you, vodka makes you horny. The thought of my mom acting like that. Ugh." He did a full-body shiver. Now we all laughed at him. Embarrassed, he tried to change the subject. "Getting all posh on us now you've been living on the West Coast? Requesting fancy Vodka?"

I rolled my eyes, "Tito's is far from fancy. I'm just too old to drink well-vodka. Burnett's and Popov's taste like paint thinner on the way down and even worse coming back up and both give me a wicked headache."

"Not to mention the shits," Lester added. He was right of course, but I wasn't going to mention it.

Trying to change the subject, Bobby asked, "So Steph, how does it feel to be one of the big wigs? You're a hot shot specialist for the Alphabet Agencies now."

I blushed. "You make me sound like a secret agent. I'm just a researcher and analyst. I sit at a desk and stick my nose in other people's business." It was true, and I loved every minute of it.

Tank piped in, "There's no just about it Little Girl. Most people have to have Master's degrees in criminal justice to get a job like that. Much less be as successful at it as you've been."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "How do you know how successful I've been? Have you been checking up on me?" What I wanted to know was if Ranger had been checking up on me. The idea pleased me and pissed me off at the same time. Had he missed me and cared enough to see how I was doing or was he still being an overbearing asshole and thought I couldn't take care of myself?

My thoughts must have shown on my face because Lester cut in. "No. It wasn't him. It was me. I heard from an old Army buddy of mine, Andy James, he's CID now. We were in basic together. He said he worked on a 12-year-old murder case with you and was impressed. When he picked up on your Jersey accent he asked around the office. Someone told him you were from Trenton, so he called and asked if I knew you."

Panic overtook me. I'd worked hard to be a professional, leaving all of my Bombshell Bounty Hunter disasters behind. I didn't need Lester telling stories about my cars catching fire, me rolling in garbage, or trying to bring in skips who were naked and covered in Vaseline. Noticing my look Lester shook his head and reassured me, "He was raving about you. He couldn't go into specifics, but he said the whole team looked at the same reports you did, but you were the only one who made the connection that solved the case. And because of you, a family finally had closure." I blushed at his words of praise. I loved my job and felt successful, which was a welcome change, but to hear someone else think I was doing a good job meant the world to me. One of the things I loved about working on the older, cold cases, was just that, giving families answers and a sense of peace. Lester continued, "I told him I already knew how amazing you were and I'd seen your brilliant mind in action. He sounded a little jealous that I knew you so well and asked if you were single." He gave me a wink and crooked grin before waggling his eyebrows.

Now my face turned completely pink. I remembered Andy. He was hot. 6' 4" tall, probably 250 lbs of solid muscle, and would fit right in with the Merry Men. He had dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, and a square jaw, and he was a nice Minnesota farm boy through and through. I could imagine him as Hal's older, less gullible brother. All three of the guys were looking at me expectantly while I recalled just how good-looking Major James was. Shit. Luckily, I was saved from having to respond when Charlie arrived with our drinks. Lester poured on the charm, all smooth talk and hot looks, and she was into it, giving it right back to him. Tank and Bobby just shook their heads. As she walked away I rolled my eyes and asked them, "So that's why you're here?" I wondered why this was where they were drinking tonight. Usually, it was Shorty's or Pino's or a club downtown for dancing. This place was more of a sports bar for suburban dads, or families staying in the nearby hotels, and I didn't think the Merry Men were here for the milkshakes or mozzarella sticks.

Lester looked after Charlie's retreating form, a dreamy look on his face. Bobby snorted. "Yeah. We did a takedown here a few weeks ago. Lover Boy has been after us to come back ever since. He was so dumbstruck last time he couldn't even speak to her," he and Tank laughed.

Lester growled at Bobby, "Shut up asshole." But there wasn't much heat behind his words.

Bobby shrugged, completely unbothered, "I'm just saying."

Tank and I just watched the back-and-forth like a ping-pong match. Lester snarked back, "Well, not all of us have a beautiful wife and a baby on the way."

"A baby!" I screeched and hugged Bobby. He'd gotten married last fall to Jill, a doctor at St. Francis. They'd met in the ER nearly two years ago after one of my cars exploded and I was forced into going to the hospital with a concussion. I'd only agreed to go because Bobby promised he'd come along and get me released as soon as humanly possible. When Jill came in to check my CT scan, the two of them clicked instantly. They returned from their six-month anniversary vacation to the Caribbean married. When I asked her about it, she said when you found the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, why wait? It was a great philosophy if the one you wanted to spend your life with felt the same way, I thought glumly.

Still stuck on Lester and Charlie, I asked, "So why didn't you pick her up the night of the takedown?" I was confused. Had Lester struck out? He'd never had a problem getting a date and Charlie appeared to be anything but disinterested. I'd seen him pick up EMTs at an accident site, the sister of a skip after a takedown and Mary Alice's teacher one afternoon when he came along with me to pick her up from school. Lester scowled while Tank and Bobby looked uncomfortable.

I just sat staring at them, waiting for an answer. They were being weird and there had to be a story behind it. Reluctantly, Tank answered, "It all went sideways. Absolute shit-show."

Bobby nodded and grumbled, "Lester ended up with a concussion and Rangeman had to replace that big mirror on the wall, half the chairs in the place, and six dozen glasses." My eyebrows shot up. Oh my god. I was a walking disaster, but even I never had a distraction go that badly. The only thing I ever had to replace was my clothes due to handsy skips and flimsy construction. I was nosey, and there was a big part of me that wanted to know the rest of the story, but the dark looks on their faces kept me from asking. I just took a big gulp of my drink and was about to change the subject when I felt Bobby tense beside me. Muttering under his breath, I could just make out the words, "Speak of the she-devil." My eyes followed his and landed on none other than Jeanne Ellen Burrows. She stood just inside the front door, perfect as always. I was so focused on how much I hated her that I almost didn't realize who she'd come in with. Ranger. My stomach churned and I had the sudden thought I might find out what Tito's compared to other vodkas on the way up right here and now.

Taking in the sight of them, I had to begrudgingly admit they made the perfect couple, a matched set in their head-to-toe black, the stunning contrast between her fair skin and blond hair and his nearly black hair and beautiful brown skin. She had one hand on his shoulder, the other wrapped around his bicep. He was focused on his phone and appeared to be reading something, before typing out a response. Not letting go of his arm, she leaned in and whispered into his ear, pressing her breasts into his side. He didn't respond, just put the phone back in his pocket and brought his eyes up to search the room. I saw his eyes find Tank's hulking figure, then scan to find Bobby, then me and Lester before coming back to me. A brief look of shock, then guilt passed over his face before his blank mask slammed into place.

I heard Lester growl and it broke through the daze I was in. I tore my eyes from Ranger's and took another big drink before nudging Lester with my knee. I tried to sound like I didn't want to run out into traffic and audition as a hood ornament for a city bus. "So tell me more about Andy James." I wanted to say, tell me your car is out back and you'll get me the fuck out of here, but I wasn't going to let that bitch have the satisfaction or make me give up the little time I got to spend with these guys.

In the months before I left Trenton, Jeanne Ellen started to appear at what I at first thought were random intervals, but looking back, I was pretty sure the conniving bitch planned all of it. Twice she stole my skips. With Hector's help, I'd moved up into the middle-range bonds, while they were a little more dangerous, they were also worth more money. We'd gone to a seedy biker bar on the edge of town to pick up an FTA wanted for arson, only to find Jeanne Ellen standing over him and another bar patron, both face down and cuffed. At the time, she said she was there for the other guy but ended up with a two-for-one. Okay, fine. I'd stumbled across one of Ranger's skips while hunting down my own, and it wasn't like the average criminal wasn't hanging out with other lowlifes. But the second time I found her marching one of my skips into the Police Station while I was walking Mooner and Dougie out after getting rebonded. She didn't even explain and just gave me a smug smile. Bitch.

A couple weeks went by and I hadn't seen her again and I thought she'd crawled back into whatever skank hole she'd come from, but no such luck. I'd continued to work distractions for Rangeman, the only difference now was that Ranger was noticeably absent. One of the Merry Men picked me up, handed me the wire, and then after the skip was carted off, drove me home. I did some of my best work those nights, all tarted up, looking like I was having the time of my life. Even though I never saw him, I knew Ranger was there, watching. I couldn't let him see, I didn't want him to see how depressed I was. I was obsessed with him, but he avoided me like the plague. I thought to myself, 'You've got to fake it 'til you make it,' and I did. I was putting on a show, my outfits more revealing, my behavior more daring, and I was luring skips outside in record time. I was so good, I could do it with a broken heart. Then that bitch tried to come for my job.

So here I was at a club in Newark, working a distraction for Rangeman, trying to lure a violent rapist out with my charm, short skirt, and wonder bra-enhanced cleavage, on the dance floor, pressed up against 29-year-old Kyle Whitehouse, a handsome blue blood wanted for a violent attack on a Rutgars' grad student. He'd drugged and raped her and when the drug wore off and she tried to fight back, he beat her so badly she was in intensive care at Princeton Hospital. His file indicated that this wasn't the first time he'd drugged and raped, or even hurt a woman, but she was the first one who reported it. He'd skipped bail and was out prowling for his next victim. It hadn't taken much to get his attention, just a suggestive dance with a 20-something blonde in a nearly nonexistent dress, we danced together like girls do, all swaying hips and roaming hands. It was hard to focus on the job with all the Merry Men muttering curse words and groaning in my ear, but I just laughed and put on a show. It worked, I could see Kyle watching us from the edge of the dance floor and I made eye contact, as the song changed, I moved away from the blonde and crooked my finger at him. Within moments he had his hands on me as I moved my body against his, hips swaying with the beat. I figured a couple more dances and he'd be asking me if I wanted to find somewhere more private. That's when I spotted her. Jeanne Ellen was on the dance floor in a nearly indecent half-transparent white dress that barely covered her ass. What the fuck was she doing here? I heard more curse words come across the wire from various Rangemen, but the tone was entirely different. I forced myself to ignore her and them, returning to my seduction of the creepy rapist when the sound of Ranger's voice in my ear nearly stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Stephanie, Jeanne Ellen is taking over, you need to make an excuse and leave." Excuse me? I looked over at her and she gave me that superior smirk. Not a fucking chance. I ignored his command and turned things up a notch. Twisting in Whitehouse's arms, I pressed my ass into his groin and moved my arms up to wrap around his neck as his hands moved to my hips. I heard Ranger growl in my ear as I made eye contact with Jeanne Ellen while mouthing 'fuck off,' to the bitch. She started moving our way and Ranger continued barking orders in my ear. "Steph, get the fuck out of there. Now." Tired of his bitching, I moved my hands to my hair, lifted it off my neck, and tilted my head to the right. The skip took the invitation and moved his lips to my shoulder while I subtly slipped my earpiece out of my ear and ran my hands down to my breasts, dropping it into my bra for safe keeping.

Before Jeanne Ellen could reach us, I turned my head to the left and suppressed a shudder of revulsion, as I nuzzled Whitehouse's neck and whispered into his ear seductively, "Let's get out of here." Without a word he took my hand and turned, leading me out the front door of the club. We'd only made it three steps before Ranger descended upon him, yanking him off his feet and throwing him into the wall. Unfortunately, rather than releasing my hand, Kyle tightened his grip on me and I was thrown to the ground before he was forced to let go. Bobby rushed to my side, scooping me up and carrying me to the nearest Rangeman SUV. Over his shoulder, I could see Tank and Lester trying to pull Ranger off the skip. Whitehouse's face was bloody, his nose obviously broken and his left arm was hanging at a very unnatural angle. Hal had opened the back of the Suburban and Bobby sat me down in the back, pulled out his medical kit, and began treating the scrapes on my knees and forearms where I'd hit the pavement. I was a little stunned from hitting my head, but the shock came more from the events of the last few minutes, Jeanne Ellen's appearance, Ranger's harsh tone over the comms, and his brutal attack on the skip. I sat dazed while Bobby doctored me up, dimly aware of my surroundings as Whitehouse was picked up and loaded into another SUV. I could see Ranger arguing with Tank, then stalking away, Jeanne Ellen hot on his heels. They rounded the corner and I swallowed the sob that threatened to escape my throat.

"Steph," Bobby said my name, bringing my attention back to him, "How hard did you hit your head? Do we need to go to the ER and have you checked out?"

I focused on him and shook my head. It didn't even hurt or make me dizzy. "No, my head's fine," I told him honestly. I didn't want to tell him the only thing that truly hurt was my heart. So I did what I did best, I distracted him. "Sorry Bobby, you're going to have to find another reason to go see your wife." I smiled at him and he gave me a grin in return. Still fully in the newlywed phase, the two of them were sickeningly adorable and the green-eyed monster was clawing at me. I was happy for my friend, but more than a bit jealous nonetheless. They made being in love look easy and nothing in my life was ever easy. I didn't have time to dwell on the feeling because suddenly Ranger appeared, standing behind Bobby, his jaw tight, tension visible in every well-defined muscle in his gorgeous body.

"I'll take Stephanie home," Ranger told Bobby, his tone holding no room for argument. His declaration got my hackles up. A dark look I'd never seen before came over Bobby's face and he started to turn towards Ranger. I was afraid the situation could turn ugly, so I put my hand on Bobby's arm and gave him a look that told him I could handle this myself. While I didn't want to follow Ranger's orders any more than I ever did, I refused to slink away and hide from him. He'd just show up at my apartment later anyway, even more angry, and besides, I had a few things I wanted to say to him too. Bobby gave me a nod and picked me up by the waist, setting me on my feet, and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

Ranger took me by the arm, his grip firm, but not painful. I could feel the anger radiating from him and thought pettily, Jeanne Ellen must not be very good if she'd tried to relieve his tension when she followed him around the back of the club. When he came to me in the dark of the night, I was able to satiate and soothe the savage beast. The knowledge made me feel superior for once and a haughty laugh escaped me. At the sound, Ranger squeezed my arm and quickened the pace as he steered me to the back of the parking lot, I could just make out his black Porsche 911 parked in the far corner of the sparsely lit space. He led me around to the passenger side and moved to open my door for me. While I usually found this gesture chivalrous, gentlemanly even, tonight it struck me as controlling and it pissed me off. I whirled around and broke his hold, catching him by surprise. With my heels on, we were nearly the same height and I was grateful I didn't have to look up at him. I felt more on even ground like this. I brought both hands up and was going to shove him away, but in a flash, he had a hold of both my hands and my body pinned to the car with his. "What the fuck is your problem?" I spit out at him.

"You," he gritted out. "You, every fucking problem I have right now is you." I glared at him. I got the feeling he wasn't just talking about tonight and I had to admit neither was I. While I'd never seen Ranger show much emotion when dealing with other people, in the last few months, ever since his robotic performance the night I stormed out of his apartment, after he ended our arrangement, we'd had increasingly volatile arguments. Apparently, triggering his rage was a gift only I possessed. Ignoring what that said about my character, I was secretly pleased with my talent. I hated his stupid blank mask and his ability to hide from me. Well, he wasn't hiding anything tonight. Petty Stephanie patted herself on the back and met his anger with my own.

"So leave me the fuck alone." I squirmed against him, trying to break free, but the sensation of his body pressing into mine made me want to pull him closer until he was inside me. The feeling made me angry at myself, but furious at him, his domineering behavior, and the hold he had on me. "I don't know why the fuck you decided to show yourself tonight, but I was doing just fine, better than fine until you showed up with that blonde bitch." He raised one brow at my comment about showing himself, seemingly surprised that I knew he'd been watching me all those other nights. If possible, his jaw got even tighter, and I was afraid he might grind his molars into dust. Have fun gumming your twigs and bark asshole, I thought to myself.

His voice was as tight as his jaw, "On jobs, I'm your fucking boss and when I give you an order, I expect you to follow it." I just glared at him, tipping my chin up defiantly. I didn't point out that while the fucking part was accurate, he hadn't been involved in any jobs I'd worked for Rangeman for months. Very mature of me, I thought. Showing no appreciation for my restraint, he leaned in closer, his voice low, harsh, and a little bit scary, "Amelia Anderson died two hours ago, a brain bleed caused by the beating she sustained at the hands of Kyle Whitehouse." My breath caught, and chills covered my body. Ranger ignored my reaction, either he didn't care, or he was so angry he didn't notice, I wasn't sure which one I preferred. "Now he has nothing to lose. He was looking for another victim before his family sends him off for a long vacation tomorrow in some country without extradition."

While I was unnerved at the new information, I wasn't backing down. My voice had an edge and I spoke to him the way you do with someone a little slow on the uptake. "I was doing my job, bringing him in. I had back-up." His face was still hard, unyielding, so I punctuated it with the obvious statement, "It was your company that hired me."

By now he was seething, "Not only did you ignore a direct order, you took out your earpiece, putting yourself and the rest of your team in unnecessary danger. I called you off and brought in someone else to handle it."

Rationally, I knew why he was angry. I'd blatantly disregarded his orders and done it in front of his men. I even knew why he'd called me off. He didn't want me to get hurt, or worse. But the way he's done it, ordering me and not asking me, and not giving me the information I needed to make my own decision was what pissed me off. Not only that, he brought her in because he thought she could handle it, but I couldn't. Fuck him. I lashed out. "I don't care what else you're having Jeanne Ellen handle, this was my job and I had it under control."

He growled low in his throat, making something tighten low in my belly and I squirmed against him. While I'd pushed his buttons in the past, it had never gone this far. His face was consumed with fury, at me, the situation, but if I had to guess, mostly at himself for putting me in danger and his inability to control his reaction to it or his feelings for me. Anyone in their right mind would have been afraid, quaking in their boots if Ranger Manoso pinned them with the look he was currently giving me. No one has ever accused me of being sane, so it was no surprise that I was 100% sure he wasn't going to hurt me, not tonight, not here, not physically. The ways he hurt me caused no visible damage and were ongoing, the pain inflicted every time he pulled me to him, just to push me away again. And I was an addict. I told myself I could always stop, and turn him away. But I was lying to myself, I wanted him, needed him, and was resolute in my belief that he needed me just as much, if not more. I could see the fear, the worry in his eyes, warring with the anger and frustration, his feelings for me edging him towards the precipice of madness. He was a ticking time bomb that needed to be diffused.

Instead of backing away from the heat of his anger, I leaned into him, taking his mouth with my own, trying to take away his pain and worry as well. He groaned and pressed his body harder into mine, his hands releasing my own, one fisting in my curls, holding me in place while he ravaged my mouth, the other sliding up, under my dress and around to the back of my thigh, using it to lift me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. I moaned and rocked my hips into his before wedging my hands between us, frantically working the button and zipper on his jeans, desperate to have him inside me, filling me, stretching me, his body the only part of him he'd allow himself to share with me. Closing my hand around his cock, I stroked him hard and fast, too keyed up to tease. A growl rumbled through his chest and into mine, and in an instant he grabbed at the scrap of lace I had on under my dress, ripping it from my body and plunged into me, all the way to the hilt.

He swallowed my screams as he set a punishing pace, his cock slamming into me over and over again, taking me, punishing me, owning me. The ferocity of it all sent me spiraling and I came apart, my body spasming around him, his rhythm faltered, his hips jerking erratically before his whole body tensed and stilled, pinning me to the car. I felt his release as he came, his anguish pouring into me as well. I pulled my mouth from his, desperate for air, pleased to feel his lungs working just as hard as mine, both our hearts racing. There were no words spoken, none needed as we clung to each other, the unspoken apologies accepted, anger forgotten and forgiven. For long moments we stayed that way before he kissed me tenderly before taking a step back. I pulled my dress back into place as he tucked himself back into his jeans before settling me in the passenger seat. As he rounded the car, movement at the back of the building caught my eye, but it was forgotten as he climbed in the driver's seat and took my hand in his for the ride back to Trenton. When we arrived at my apartment, I took him by the hand and led him up the stairs. He spent the rest of the night in my bed, using his body to tell me what his voice couldn't.

And in the morning, he was gone.

Coming out of the memory, I half listened to Lester tell me a story about the first time he met Andy and the trouble they got into together at Fort Moore, but most of my attention was focused on Jeanne Ellen and Ranger. I could see them in my peripheral vision, he was trying to remove her hands from his body, but she was like an octopus, establishing another hold on him, just as he broke the previous one. At first, his eyes were focused on me, almost as if he was frozen, in a trance, but he finally dragged his gaze to her, almost as if just noticing she was there and attached to his side. He leaned down to say something and finally peeled her hands off him. She laughed and tried to regain her grasp when he spoke again and she stilled, a pout crossing her face. She turned our direction, noticing our table, actually noticing me, before scowling, then turning on her heel, and flouncing off. As she reached the door, she turned back to say one last thing to Ranger before making her exit. He acted as if he hadn't heard her and started to head in our direction. Shit.

Lester stopped his story mid-sentence and Tank cut in, "Sorry Steph. Ranger didn't think he'd be able to make it tonight or I wouldn't have asked you to stay. He used to just turn down an invite, but recently he's shown up and lets us know if he can't make it."

With more confidence than I felt, I assured them all, "Tank, it's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm a big girl. We're all grown-ups." But on the inside, I wasn't feeling very grown up. I wanted to go find Jeanne Ellen and have a knockdown, drag-out old-fashioned girl fight with hair pulling and eye gouging, forgetting for a minute that she could most likely kill me with her pinkie. I could do this, I told myself. I'm a grown-ass woman, as Lula would say. We were just friends. Ranger wanted us to be friends. We were friends, right? I had no reason to be upset. I took a big drink, emptied my glass, and nudged Lester with my shoulder. "Hey big guy, why don't you go find that hot waitress and get me another drink? Make it a double. I need to use the ladies' room." He held my eyes for a minute, then nodded and stood, letting me out of the booth.

Ranger hadn't quite made it to our table yet, so I hustled away, free and clear. I took care of business before washing my hands, taking a long moment in front of the mirror, I braced my hands on the sink and took deep breaths. I can do this, I told myself over and over. By now, the vodka had fully hit my bloodstream, giving me an extra boost of confidence, unfortunately it was also encouraging the tingling sensation brought on by the vivid memory of the angry, out-of-control encounter up against Ranger's car. I took another deep breath in hopes of quashing the feeling and stepped out of the restroom. I wasn't surprised to find Ranger waiting for me. It was preferable to finding Jeanne Ellen lying in wait, not by much. Suddenly, I was not feeling very friendly towards him after all, and chose to ignore him, turning towards the bar, but he caught my arm. "Steph," he sounded uncharacteristically apologetic. When I didn't turn around, he kept hold of me and positioned himself in front of me. "It's not what it looked like, Jeanne Ellen, we're not, she's not..."

Not interested in hearing what he had to say, I cut him off, "Ranger, you don't owe me an explanation." While that was true, it didn't mean that seeing him with her, in public, no less, was like a knife to my heart. Not only was he with someone else, but the fact that it was her was an extra twist of the blade.

Undeterred, he tried again, "Steph, since you've been gone, she's been..." I didn't wait to hear the rest, I didn't want to hear the rest. I had no desire to hear what Jeanne Ellen and Ranger had been doing this last year. None. At all. I wrenched my arm from his grasp and quickly walked back to the table. I was done with the whole conversation and quite frankly with the man himself. I hoped Ranger took the hint, walked out the front door, got in his car and drove away. But I doubted I would be so lucky.

When I slid into the booth, both Bobby and Tank looked concerned, but had the decency not to ask what happened. Lester was noticeably absent, but my drink had been refreshed, thankfully with a double. I took a big gulp, trying to reach the disconnected numbness that came with a really good buzz. I wasn't there yet, but I could see it on the horizon. Tank opened his mouth, but snapped it shut without uttering a sound as Ranger appeared, sliding in the booth next to me and sitting closer than he had to, pressing our bodies together from knee to shoulder. Just that contact reignited the tingling sensation and I squirmed in my seat. Tank pinned Ranger with a look and opened his mouth again, but thankfully closed it when I skewered him with a look of my own, begging him not to start anything. I didn't want him to put himself in the middle of whatever this was between Ranger and me. In a few short days, I'd be gone again, while they'd all still be here. My vodka-addled brain conjured up an image of Ranger and I as parents, the Merry Men our children, and the two of us trying not to argue for the sake of the kids. I snorted a laugh.

I tried to collect myself. The tingling was getting stronger, making me feel warm in places that I thought had gone dormant. I could feel Ranger's eyes on me, but refused to look at him. Instead, I took another big drink and asked Bobby, "So when's the baby due? How's Jill feeling?" He grinned like the proud papa-to-be that he was and started to tell me all about everything there was to know about Baby Brown's impending arrival. I listened intently, ignoring the sensations sitting so close to Ranger sent zinging through my body, so happy that Bobby was happy and tried to push away the twinge of jealousy that bubbled up. I washed it down by finishing my drink. Tank and Bobby started a conversation about cloth vs. disposable diapers, Tank being the hands on uncle of 18 month old twin boys. His sister Diana had left her abusive ex and moved in with Tank just before the boys were born and he was an ardent proponent of anything better for the environment and his nephews, there was no single-use anything at their house with the exception of toilet paper. Sounded like a lot of work and more laundry to me, but if it made him happy, that's all that mattered.

The whole time Ranger sat pressed up against me and I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my head. While I sat here, just one giant tingle at this point, he as usual seemed unaffected. He made quick work of his own drink, an amber liquid I knew to be scotch, more specifically Glenfiddich. Ick. It was his drink of choice, although he rarely indulged and when he did, never more than one. He'd let me taste it once, the 50 year old bottle he kept in his penthouse apartment. To me it tasted like licking the inside of a fireplace. I'll take my buddy Tito any day of the week over that.

While Bobby and Tank talked diapers, assorted creams, and pastes, Ranger spoke, his voice low, his mouth a hair's breadth away from my ear, the sensation making me shudder. "You didn't let me explain." While his voice was controlled, he couldn't hide his annoyance and frustration.

He wasn't the only one, through gritted teeth I told him, "You don't need to explain. I'd rather you didn't actually. If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would've asked you." I kept my eyes on Bobby and Tank, but I felt him tense beside me before downing the rest of his scotch. He held up his hand and signaled a waitress, and being Ranger, one appeared in an instant, although not Charlie. I looked around the bar and didn't see her, Lester either for that matter. I assumed they were most likely in the supply closet, boinking each other's brains out. The busty blonde that arrived in her place only had eyes for Ranger, but he didn't seem to notice until the bimbo didn't ask anyone else what they wanted, so he ordered more beer for the guys and looked at my empty glass and raised an eyebrow in question. I ignored him and gave her my order, almost certain she'd fuck it up for all the attention she paid me, "Dirty Shirley, double, with Tito's." She just nodded and sauntered away.

Amazingly, she returned shortly with drinks for all of us. The bar was really filling up now, I suppose people were catching up with old friends like I was, or escaping the house after extended time with their families, which I might be, if they weren't on their way to Florida. I took a sip of my drink to see if Blondie had been too mesmerized by Ranger to get it right. It was definitely a Dirty Shirley, and Tito's, in a glass for a double, but the alcohol was doubled yet again. Wow. Oh well. I took a big drink and relaxed back into the booth, hopeful the vodka would drown the tingles.

Surprisingly, the conversation flowed freely and easily. Time and circumstances faded into the background as we caught up on each other's lives. Bobby talked about the home improvement projects he had planned for their house before the baby arrived. Tank shared pictures, videos and stories of his busy household. I watched on his phone as two tiny Tanks giggled, played and chattered and Tank's cats, who acted annoyed by the boys' attention, but snuggled up their little bodies as they slept. When they started to tell stories about Rangeman happenings, the boss man himself even chimed in, laughing so hard that he had to stop several times while trying to tell the story of Lester sneaking back into Haywood in only his boxer briefs in the wee hours after walking a mile to get there. The woman he'd gone home with from the bar had a boyfriend she'd failed to tell him about and he'd had to jump out the two story window, the rest of his clothes, keys and phone left behind. With his body pressed so closely to mine, the laughter that vibrated through his body traveled into me to join the tingles that continued to make my blood hum.

A sense of peace came over me, being with these guys felt so easy, so right and it reminded me of the time before it all went to hell. I allowed the tension in my body to relax and leaned into Ranger, the familiar feeling making me sigh. Friends. We could do this, we could be friends. Friends were nice, I thought. I missed my friends. I grinned stupidly, looking around the table at my friends. My incredibly well built, hot male friends. Woah Tito. Stop that train of thought right there. While Tank and Bobby stopped after a couple of beers each, the self appointed president of Ranger's fan club kept our drinks refreshed and neither of us was feeling any pain. This was nice I thought, my brain fuzzy. Mmmmm. My body was suffused with that unique combination of feelings only Ranger's presence brought about. I was calm and content sharing space with him once again, simultaneously feeling the not-so-low level hum my body emitted in response to the nearness of his own. It was nice to be near him and yet pain free after all the hurt. While I knew the hurt was still there somewhere, it floated away into the clouds, only happiness left to surround me, well happiness and hormones. There was nowhere else in the world I'd rather be, than here with him, with all of them.

Bobby's phone vibrated, signaling an end to his night. Jill was off work and he was overprotective, not wanting her to drive in the snow. He gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "It's good to see you Bomber. We've missed you."

I grinned at him, probably all the alcohol making it a little goofy, "It's good to be seen. I missed you guys too." And I did. I poked his muscled chest and frowned at the pain that traveled up my finger to my brain before dissipating into the fog. "You'd better let me know when the baby gets here. And if you're looking for names, Steph is great for a boy or a girl. Stephanie or Stephon." He actually rolled his eyes. Tank's laugh boomed and I swear Ranger snorted next to me. Putting my hands on my hips I argued, "You know, you should name the baby after me since I'm responsible for you two getting together in the first place." He laughed and Tank slid out of the booth, letting Bobby up.

Tank was about to sit down again when his own phone vibrated. "What's up?" he asked, answering the call. "What?" He put his free hand over his ear in an effort to hear what the caller was saying in the din of the bar. He pulled the phone away from his ear for a minute so he could glance at his watch. "I can be there in thirty, will that work?" His eyes roamed over Ranger and me and I got the sense he was evaluating us. "Can't you go in late?" He asked the caller. Giving the two of us another once over he frowned. "Fine, give me ten." Hanging up he told us, "Diana's sitter didn't show. She has to be on shift at the care center at midnight. I need to watch the boys." He looked at us expectantly.

"And?" I asked.

Tank huffed out a breath, "And neither of you is fit to drive. I can't take you or she's going to be late."

Ranger laughed, "You do realize we're full-grown adults and don't need a chauffeur or chaperone." Tank looked back and forth between the two of us, the look on his face dubious of either claim. Ranger assured him, "Don't worry Dad. When we're ready to go, I'll call one of the guys on patrol to come pick us up." While Tank looked relieved, he was still hesitant.

"It's fine Big Guy, go snuggle the Wonder Twins. Just remember to send Auntie Steph some new pictures soon." Finally, he agreed, gave me a big hug and promised to send more photos before heading off into the night. As I watched him exit, I squealed at the sight of the snow that swirled in as the door closed in his wake. I turned around and looked at the big window behind us. "It's snowing again!" I exclaimed, more thrilled than I probably should have been by something that was a near-daily meteorological experience here on the East Coast in winter. But it was pretty, and magical. I missed the snow. I missed a lot of things I decided. Righting myself in the booth, I turned and saw Ranger smiling, gazing at me as if he too felt like the hands of the clock had reversed direction and we'd traveled back to the time before it all went wrong. I missed this, the ease of being with him, the way he made me feel special and smart and beautiful with just a look or a single word.

"Babe," he whispered and dipped his head as I lifted mine, our lips meeting in a soft kiss. This, I decided, this is what I missed most of all.