Lyrics from the songs Treacherous, illicit affairs, and So Long London by Taylor Swift appear in this chapter.

Ranger's words bounced around inside my head, echoing. There was a video. A video of the two of us having sex. A video of us fucking up against Ranger's car. Fucking in the parking lot of a bar. Jeanne Ellen had this video and was most likely using it to keep Ranger under her thumb. What if he didn't do what she wanted? What would she do with it? Who would see it? My family? The Rangemen? The Burg? My friends? My co-workers? The FBI? The entire internet?

Oh, god. I couldn't breathe. I needed to get out, to get away. Ranger was still holding me, staring intently at me, waiting for a response. It was a fight-or-flight situation, and since she wasn't here to fight, I chose the latter. Wriggling out of his hold, I made my way towards the entryway. "I need to go," I said, my voice oddly calm, not the high, squeaky, panicky sound that was in my head.

He trailed behind me. "Steph, Babe," his voice was pleading with me, begging me to say something. I pulled out a pair of slip-on sneakers, shoved my feet into them, and threw on an oversized cardigan sweatshirt before grabbing my purse and keys. He grabbed my arm. "Steph, say something, please." His face was pained. I looked back at him, my own face blank, not because I was trying to hide anything, but because I was in shock. I didn't know what to say to him, or how I was feeling. I was horrified, embarrassed, angry, and I was so fucking overwhelmed. This was just the cherry on top of the shit sundae of the emotional turmoil of the last twenty-four hours, and I couldn't take anymore.

Anger was the most pressing of the emotions I was feeling, and it was the only one I could do something to ease at the moment. I needed to hit something, give myself a minute to get my head together. I knew Ranger was upset. He felt guilty; I'm sure he was angry too, but he'd had time to come to terms with it. That was what I needed, time.

He tried again. "Babe, talk to me. Don't go."

"How long?" I asked. My voice was still calm, almost robotic.

He went from concerned to confused. "How long what?"

"How long have you known? How long have you kept this from me?" The anger was simmering, and I needed to leave before I started yet another fight with him. I knew he wasn't to blame for the video, but he knew how I felt about when he kept things from me, especially things that concerned me. He looked guilty, turning to avoid my gaze, but didn't answer. "How long?" I asked again, my voice still eerily calm.

He turned back to me, meeting my eyes again, regret written plain as day on his face. "It was emailed to me about a month after you left."

Wow. I don't know what I'd expected him to say, but that wasn't it. "So you've had more than a year to come to terms with it?" The tenuous grip on my temper was slipping. "I need some time, Ranger, time to process this. I need to get out of there. I need to think, and I can't do that while I'm sharing space with you. Let me go." My voice had risen slightly by the time I finished. He didn't look like he was going to back down, so I added, "Please." He studied me for a long moment, but finally nodded and let me go.

I quickly made my way out of the apartment, worried he might change his mind and come after me, dragging me back to the apartment. Skipping the elevator, I quickly descended the three flights of stairs to the lobby. Once safely inside my car, I took a deep breath, trying to take in all that had happened since I stepped out of it last, less than twenty-four hours ago. It was hard to process all of it. I had much more information about Sophia's murder, about Marco Ruiz, and also about Ranger. The man himself had shared some of his past, and parts of this life he's always kept hidden from me. And now Jeanne Ellen. I needed to think, to sort through all he'd told me.

I'd learned a lot of ways over the past year and a half to manage my emotions better, how to focus, dissect what I was feeling, and sort out the unproductive feelings and focus on the things I could actually do something about. The best way, or the way that I needed right now, was to go get in a workout. I felt like punching something, and thought I might as well satisfy that need.

I pulled myself together and made the short drive to my gym, thankful I kept my workout bag in the trunk of my car. Finding a parking spot on the street, I stopped in The Black Dog, just a few doors down to buy a bottle of water, a protein bar, and a banana, before traveling around the corner to the gym. I made quick work of my snack before making my way to the locker room. Stripping down, I slipped on my sports bra and bike shorts, and switched out my shoes. Sliding earbuds in, I pulled out my phone to call up a workout playlist. When I saw the obscene number of notifications on the lock screen, I cursed, realizing I hadn't even looked at my phone since walking out the door from work last night. Ranger's visit had been all-consuming, just like the man himself.

The serious issues we'd needed to discuss had taken my complete focus. Even without the weight of those things, being with Ranger, and spending time with the man, always felt like something separate from the real world. When I was with him, time stopped, and everything else ceased to exist. I suppose that was a good and a bad thing. Part of me wondered if it was the nature of our relationship–clandestine meetings, in darkness, hidden by the cover of night, and me clinging to every moment, never sure if it would be the last. When I wasn't sure if he wanted to be there. Well, I knew he wanted to be, but would he continue to allow himself to be? If he did change his mind, and we were together in every sense of the word, would that desperate feeling relent? Would I be able to find a balance? Function in my real life and still share space with him? What if part of what drove my need for him was the fact that he was fighting it? I'd long known I tended to want things I couldn't have. Was Ranger just another one of those things? If we ever truly committed to being together, would it become mundane, would I not want him, or it anymore?

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and began to scroll through my notifications. Ignoring any from Facebook, Instagram, or TikTok, I focused on text messages. They appeared, with the most recent first from fewer than ten minutes ago.

Ranger: Are you okay?

My heart clenched at his words. It was the first text he'd sent outside the response to mine yesterday in those twenty months of silence and was completely out of character. That was not the type of text Ranger sent. His texts were generally something like: Distraction, tomorrow night, dress classy sexy, or Shorthanded, surveillance shift Wednesday. 10 pm. If he was feeling civilized, there would be a question mark to make it not sound so much like an order. But he'd never sent a text asking if I was okay. That was an in-person question, or more of an inquiry. He never really asked, just used his superpowers to assess my mood and ESP to read my thoughts. I wonder what the text meant, other than taking the question at face value. Had something changed for him like I'd hoped?

I texted back: Not really. Working on it.

His quick response: Can I help?

I thought for a minute before responding: I need a little space to get my thoughts together.

Another quick answer: Okay.

I hoped I hadn't hurt his feelings, but I needed the space. I felt terrible about shutting down his attempt at reaching out, knowing he was making an effort, but I needed to worry about myself right now. I'd put the reason for my trip to the gym out of my mind for the trip here, but his message brought it all back.

I pressed pause on my racing thoughts and scanned my other notifications. There were a couple from my sister, one from Angie, Mary Alice, and Grandma each, which was normal for a Saturday. I ignored them and planned to respond later. While Mom could text, it was a last resort for her. She preferred to call or FaceTime; Dad, too.

Kat had sent a photo of her team with a trophy. They were an amazing group of women from all walks of life who had real jobs but loved the thrill they only got on the rugby field. I'd been to a few matches and Kat had attempted to explain all the rules to me. I may not understand it, but it didn't diminish my appreciation of the sport. I sent back a Woo Hoo! gif with Rachel and Phoebe from Friends, dancing and jumping around excitedly.

There were a dozen texts from Abigail starting last night. She'd been out of the office for a meeting at lunchtime, so I hadn't seen her since breakfast. Was that only yesterday? She knew I was a wreck over my case, but HHN was the only one I'd told about my suspicion that Ranger was involved. Like usual, she'd checked in after my therapy appointment.

5:30 pm

Abigail: How was Mr. Handsome?

7:00 pm

Abigail: Did you two run away together?

9:15 pm

Abigail: Are you okay?

10:30 pm

Abigail: I'm hoping you just fell asleep or decided to go out for drinks and got lucky. Awake Steph deserves an orgasm too. (Winky face emoji)

8:23 am

Abigail: Did he make you breakfast? Are you doing the walk of shame?

10:45 am

Abigail: Seriously, Where the fuck are you? I'm freaking out here.

1:13 pm

Abigail: Either text me back, or I'm leaving the boys with Tim and driving to your place with ice cream.

3:30 pm

Abigail: Last chance!

4:17 pm

Abigail: Okay, Billy Boy had a blowout. Up his back, needed a bath. Then I did too. Ick. Don't have kids. Now is your last chance. Really.

Shit. Before I could respond, another message came through.

Abigail: Holy Fuck!

I was guessing she followed through on her threat and found Ranger at my apartment.

Me: Um, yeah, sorry for falling off the face of the earth.

Abigail: That's what you're sorry for? Not for failing to tell me Ranger was in your apartment? Were you too busy fucking like rabbits? Please tell me yes. The boys' sleep schedules have been off, and Tim and I haven't been in bed together at the same time for a week.

A grin crossed my face at the memories from both last night and this morning.

Me: I wouldn't say like bunnies.

Abigail: (Anna from Frozen squealing gif) Why is he here? Did he come to profess his love for you? How did he do it? In a trench coat with a boombox outside your window, or did he go full Richard Gere, showing up at the office in this dress uniform and carrying you out bridal style?

Abigail was as big of a fan of old romantic movies as I was. If only that had been the case.

Me: Not exactly. There's some shit going down.

Abigail: You okay?

Me: Working on it.

Abigail: Need me to hurt him?

The image that conjured up made me laugh out loud. Abigail was a five-foot, two-inch tall, petite redhead.

Me: Thanks for the offer, I'll let you know. Gonna work out. Text you later.

Abigail: You better, bitch.

I smiled, pulled up my FAFO playlist, and headed into the gym. There were only a few other people around, so I claimed my usual corner and got started. After stretching and warming up, I started with the kettlebells, the burn in my muscles pulling my attention away from the churning in my gut. I tried to just focus on my body, but my brain kept whirring. While I knew big-picture-wise, whoever was behind this whole mess plotting against Ranger was the most important issue, all of my focus was on the fact that there was a sex tape out there. A sex tape of me and Ranger. Ranger and I had a sex tape. A little thrill went through me at the thought, before horror replaced it. Its existence was one thing. Would I have willingly filmed one? No. Well, with Ranger? Maybe. The man had a way of making me do things, wanting to do things I'd never dreamed. Not that he manipulated me, but with him, my boundaries fell away and the want overcame me, and took on a life of its own. The love I had for him was dangerous, treacherous. No, the problem wasn't the fact that the recording existed, but that Jeanne Ellen was in possession of it.

What the fuck did she want with it? If she felt about Ranger the way I thought she did, I can't imagine she enjoyed watching us. Hell, if she'd seen us, I thought I was lucky to be alive. If our positions had been reversed, I might have shot her on sight. Maybe him, too.

So what was she up to? Was she using it to blackmail Ranger? I can't imagine he gave two shits about a video of him having sex. But me? He'd let her use it to protect me, knowing I'd be mortified. Plus, it happened on a job, well technically after a job, but nonetheless, could she use it to damage Rangeman? Oh god, I was just grateful it hadn't happened on the FBI Case. For once, I was glad he'd been such an ass those couple of nights we'd worked the Evans case.

So what was her endgame? What did she want from him? How far was he willing to go to protect me? If she was blackmailing him and wanted in his bed, was it just a matter of time before she'd forced the issue? How had it not already happened? He swore it hadn't, that he hadn't been with her, but was this just another one of those things that he compartmentalized? If it was something he'd done against his will, or as part of a job, did it not count in his mind? I wanted to hurl at the thought.

Grabbing a yoga mat, I pushed away the jealousy and shifted my focus back to her motivation. Obviously, she was the issue at Rangeman that he'd alluded to, but could she be involved in the other changes? He worked government ops with her more now than ever before, but was that her doing? Did she have that much control? Was she simply another contract worker, just a specialist like Ranger? I didn't know if Jeanne Ellen was tied to the military at all, no one had ever mentioned it, but I supposed it was possible, but most Rangemen had military backgrounds and I think if she did as well, someone would have said something. While they didn't have a lot in common with the housewives of the Burg, one thing the Rangemen shared with that group of women was a love of gossip. The Merry Men were some of the biggest busybodies I'd ever met. They gossiped about each other's sex lives, screw-ups, and speculated on everything from when Tank was going to get another cat to when Lester was going to get arrested again.

I blushed, thinking about how often Ranger and I must have been the subject of their conversations. Between all the kissing and groping that must have been caught on security feeds around the building over the years, my overnight stays in the penthouse, as well as the amount of money, manpower, and automobiles Ranger gave me over the years. That was bad enough, but those last few months before I left, when things had gone to shit between the two of us, when the tension between us had changed from sexual to awkward to downright hostile. What must they have thought or said?

It was no secret how any of them felt about Jeanne Ellen. Even when I was home at Christmas, Bobby, Lester, and Tank didn't bother to hide their feelings about her. Now that I thought about it, they also didn't seem to be shocked by seeing her arrive at the bar with Ranger, or her hands all over him. Did they assume what I had? That Ranger and Jeanne Ellen were a couple? Why would Ranger not set them straight? Had he not confided in any of them? If the Merry Men thought he was seeing Jeanne Ellen, a woman who was so dismissive of all of them, what had that done to morale, or their respect for Ranger? If that's what Tank thought, what did he think about my weekend with Ranger? While I was sure Ranger hadn't shared any details about his three-day absence, Tank was a smart man. Did he see me as the other woman? Enough thinking. I need to make a plan.

Moving to the kickboxing bag, I started to make a mental list of things I needed to know more about, trying to focus more on unraveling the plot against Ranger and less on any feelings about the existence of our sex tape and Ranger keeping it from me, and my raging jealousy of Jeanne Ellen and her pursuit of Ranger. I needed to know more about Jeanne Ellen and figure out what she wanted. As fantastic as Ranger was in bed, I couldn't imagine her going to all this trouble for a Ranger-induced orgasm. What was she after? His influence? His money? His company? Was she acting alone, or did she have an accomplice? Or was she answering to someone else who was using her for their own devices? But again, to what end?

Jeanne Ellen was a good place to start researching the irregularities at Rangeman and his government work, but what about the military? I needed to ask Ranger about that. Also, Ranger said he wasn't going back until this was solved. He was offline. What did that mean? Did anyone know he was there? Was he in danger? Was I?

Picturing Jeanne Ellen's skank-whore face on the bag, I focused on my workout, blocking my racing thoughts and just letting muscle memory take over. Once I'd burned off enough excess nervous energy, I ran through a quick cool down, rinsed off in the shower before redressing, packed up my things, and walked back down to the Black Dog to grab a smoothie. When I stepped up to the counter, Maisy, the tiny twenty-something-year-old pixie of a barista, stood waiting for me.

I gave her my order, "Hey Maisy, I'll take my usual." She grinned at me, her eyes twinkling.

"Already got it," she replied. "Your sexy man ordered it for you just a few minutes ago." The confusion on my face must have shown. I'd left Ranger at my apartment, he had no transportation and unless he'd snuck a tracker in my purse, had no idea where I was. I started to dig in my bag for a random pen, lipstick, or hair clip that I knew wasn't mine. Maisy must have thought I was searching for my wallet.

"Don't worry, he paid for it too." She swooned a bit, cutting her eyes to the seating area. She gave me a knowing smile. "Must have been a pretty good weekend if he bought your breakfast this morning and afternoon smoothie." She winked at me. "I added an extra scoop of protein powder for you; you'll need to keep up your energy if he delivers on what he's advertising."

Finally making the connection, I turned my head sharply to the left, searching for only a minute before my eyes settled on Michael Vaughn lounging in one of the comfy leather chairs, grinning at me. He gave me a wink and raised his own smoothie in greeting.

I mumbled thanks to Maisy as I dazedly made my way to him, but his grin turned a little smug, and it ticked me off. I felt bad for standing him up this morning and for the odd standoff he and Ranger had in my apartment this morning, but that was partly his fault due to his oddly possessive behavior. I sat down in the chair closest to him, the small, cozy set-up feeling a little awkward, like a date. Still smiling, he handed me my peanut butter, chocolate, and banana smoothie. I was still shocked to see him here, one hundred percent sure this was not a coincidence.

He nodded at me as he spoke. "The view isn't as good as it was this morning, but the hair is a lot less scary."

I rolled my eyes at him in response and took a big sip of my smoothie. "So are you a regular here now? Should I expect to see you every morning when I stop in?"

He smiled bigger. "No, but I have to agree with you, the coffee cake was fantastic."

I pressed for an answer. "So, I take it you're here to see me?" He nodded. That started me thinking, and I put my smoothie down and started digging in my bag again for a tracker, a CIA one, not a Rangeman one. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vaughn smiling, like I was amusing him. Turning my head and abandoning my search, I glared at him, asking, "Where is it?"

"Where is what?" He looked perplexed.

Like he didn't know. "Did you drop a tracker in my purse? A pen, lipstick, hair clip?"

He still looked confused. "What?"

I didn't buy his innocent act and started searching again before another thought came to me. "Did you put a GPS unit on my car?"

He just laughed and asked, "Does that happen to you a lot?"

I stopped searching and sighed. "In the past, yes. It's annoying, but I can't say it didn't come in handy a time or two." I reached up and touched my necklace pendant, grateful for the wings, the men, and the support it represented.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would someone track you?"

I shrugged. "In my former life when I was a BEA, if you researched me as well as I think you did, you probably noticed I liked to stick my nose where it doesn't belong." After a beat, I added, "I also have a knack for collecting stalkers." He nodded. I'm sure he'd read all about it. "So the trackers were to keep me safe. They saved my life more than once."

He clarified, frowning. "Manoso tracked you."

I corrected, "Rangeman tracked me."

"Same thing," he said. "Seems like I read several of those things, like the stalkers, weren't your fault." I smiled, thinking of my old motto, but lost it just as fast, knowing a lot of the time it was my fault, at least partially. He wasn't smiling anymore, his expression serious. "From what I read, a fair number of the dangerous, the most violent, were because of Manoso." I gave him a hard look. He ignored me and continued, "Do you think you'd have been targeted by Edward Scrog, Hector Ramos, Orin Hatch, or Viktor Valkov if it wasn't for him?"

I insisted, "He protected me from them."

"You wouldn't have even been on their radar if you weren't associated with him," he pressed the issue.

I shook my head. "I had plenty of my own psychos; there's something about me that attracts them. It's part of my charm." I thought for a minute before continuing, "I may not have always loved the trackers, but they saved my life on more than one occasion." I reached up again, touching my angel wings, before drawing my hand back and forcing the memory of Jimmy's attack and death from my mind. I'd had this discussion before, both with myself and with Morelli. Vaughn had no idea what my life had been like. But that was all in the past. I'd left the craziness and danger of my former life behind. I worked a desk job now. I was safe.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Rangeman tracked me to keep me safe. The CIA has no reason to track me. You have no reason to track me."

He nodded, acknowledging my argument. "Are you sure you're safe? That he's safe? Ranger Manoso is a dangerous man." He looked concerned.

I straightened my spine. "I am fully aware of whom, and what Ranger is." He raised an eyebrow. "While there may be things, details, he can't tell me, it doesn't change the fact that I know him and who he is at his core."

He looked skeptical. "And you're okay with that?" I nodded, and for the first time, I knew it was true.

"I am," I told him.

He gave a nod, then changed the subject. "I didn't put a tracker on you." I looked dubious. He shrugged. "I didn't. I'm just that good." I puzzled it out in my brain, then glanced at the counter to see Maisy doing her best to disguise the fact that she was watching our every move.

Turning back, I accused him, "You bribed my barista?" That explained my exact order both this morning and this afternoon. He grinned at me.

"Didn't need to bribe her. When you stood me up this morning, I asked her what your usual was, and told her you must have overslept, and I was going to surprise you. But, in case we missed each other, she should let me know if you came in." He smiled bigger, pleased with himself. "She texted when you stopped in with your gym bag earlier and told me the odds were high that you'd grab a smoothie after your workout. She thinks I'm romantic."

"More like a stalker." I rolled my eyes at him again. He put his hand over his heart as if I'd wounded him. "So if you're not stalking me, why are you here?"

The charming mask fell away and he looked a little sheepish. "I wanted to apologize for this morning. I didn't expect to find Manoso at your place and you…" He trailed off. I knew what he meant. When I greeted him at the door this morning, there was no disguising my morning-after glow. The half-naked mercenary in my kitchen didn't help either.

I snorted. "It was a surprise for me, too. I messaged him yesterday, telling him we needed to talk, and he showed up on my doorstep."

Vaughn didn't try and hide his surprise. "Did you know he was Ruiz when you asked me to look into him?"

I nodded. "Spidey Sense," I said simply. He grinned. I shrugged and continued, "I had a feeling, a very strong feeling, but no proof." I took a sip of smoothie before finishing my explanation. "I reached out to him. After I got your text, I started to feel a little guilty. Ranger's a very private man, and after all he's done for me, I thought I owed it to him."

His brow furrowed. "Why didn't you just ask him in the first place?"

There was no simple answer to that question, but I tried. "Things between us… to say it's complicated would be a gross understatement." He just waited for further explanation. I sighed, then figured why not? "Ranger was my mentor when I started bounty hunting. He taught me the basics. Well, as much as I would let him." I grimaced at my past behavior. "I tend to be a bit too independent and stubborn sometimes." A look of mock surprise crossed his face. I'd taken a sip of my drink, and snorted smoothie out my nose when he caught me off guard. I choked and sputtered for a minute while he tried to suppress his laughter. Cleaning myself up with a napkin, I continued, "Anyway, we became friends." I paused for a minute before adding, "He was my best friend, and he looked out for me. I did some work for him."

A smile crossed my face at how simple it used to be between us. I shrugged, and my voice got softer. "Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with him, but that's not what he wants." I looked away for a minute and briefly wondered why I was telling him all of this. Keeping my eyes focused on the potted plant in the corner, I told him our not-so-happy ending, "Things got bad, they got ugly. I needed a fresh start, the offer from the FBI came along, and I came here to start over." Blinking back tears, I looked back at him.

He looked skeptical. "The man I met in your apartment this morning wants you very much."

I rolled my eyes and tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "What he wants and what he will allow in his life are two different things." Not wanting to focus on that depressing thought, I asked, "What was up with your reaction, by the way? It was a little over the top for a man I've met once."

The sheepish look returned. "That had more to do with me and my own complications than you." He took great interest in sipping from his smoothie. Now it was my turn to wait for more. He sighed. "There's a woman. We work together. We have for a while. Then things changed, we were getting closer, then she was sent on assign ment. Ends up paired with a guy, someone who is contracted, like Manoso, for certain things. When she came back, they were together, and I was back in the friend zone. The guy's a dick, sort of a daredevil, thinks he's a superhero." It was his turn to look away, collect himself. "He keeps breaking her heart, but she keeps taking him back, and it kills me to watch it." He sighed.

His smile was sad as he looked back to me. "You remind me of her, smart, feisty, independent, strong." I could see how much he cared for her. He shrugged. "But when it comes to him. All of that goes out the window. They just got engaged, and I have a bad feeling about it, but there's nothing I can do. I've tried to be there for her, but I need to step away. I can't do it anymore."

My heart went out to him. While I didn't have to watch Ranger choose to be with someone else, it was painful enough to see him insist on being with no one at all. Those times I'd even briefly thought he was with Jeanne Ellen were enough to make me miserable. Thinking of the bitch, I made a decision. "Thank you for looking into Marco Ruiz for me. I'm sorry I stood you up and for everything this morning," I said graciously. The awkward exchange between him and Ranger was more his fault than mine, but I figured if I'd kept our meeting this morning it wouldn't have happened at all. Besides, I had another favor to ask him. He just nodded in acceptance, he seemed grateful to have the feelings portion of our conversation over. "Can I ask you one more favor?"

His smile looked a little smug. "Did you change your mind? Want me to look into Manoso?" I felt like he was still thinking about his situation rather than mine.

I shook my head. "No, If I need to know anything more, I'll ask him myself." Vaughn looked skeptical. I ignored this reaction, reminding myself I was asking him for something again, something important. "I need you to look into someone else." I put my cup down and played with my napkin, a little nervous that I was asking too much. "But it's not for a case. Well, not an FBI case. It's another investigation I'm doing, not just because I'm nosy." Or because I hate the fucking bitch. I thought to myself.

The bark of laughter he let out told me the last part had not been, in fact, to myself. "Well, now I have to say yes, just to satisfy my own curiosity about who could earn an opinion like that from you. From what I've seen and read, you're pretty accepting. Who is it?"

I took a deep breath before explaining. "Her name is Jeanne Ellen Burrows. She's like Ranger, and does work for different agencies, but I don't think she's tied to anyone specifically, though I don't know for sure." The look on his face told me he knew her, or at least of her. "I take it you're familiar with her?" I didn't like that idea. I wasn't jealous. I wasn't interested in Vaughn, so I wasn't jealous. But I liked him. I thought he was a nice guy, and the thought of any connection to the she-devil herself not only made me sad, it would make me question whether or not I could trust him. Plus, she was a skank.

He shook his head. "I don't know her. I've heard things, though, know people who have worked with her." The way he said worked made me think the involvement had been more than just an op. "Not good things overall. She's got a bit of a reputation for not always keeping things professional. Some people are okay with that." He looked a little sheepish. "I mean, I know I got involved with a co-worker, but not like that." I nodded and smiled. I knew what he meant. From the way he looked and the way he talked about her, he obviously cared very much about her.

He continued, "People also say she's a glory hound, will go off-script to make sure she's the hero, but she gets results. So management lets it fly. What is it you want to know?" His words went a long way in reassuring me that my first impression of him was on target and I could trust him. There wouldn't ever be anything between us romantically, but I hoped we could be friends.

His question was a good one, and one I wasn't sure I knew the answer to. "I don't know exactly. There's something off about her. Can you look for any connections to other people, agencies? She seems to have more pull or power than she should if she's just contracted. Is there someone higher up that's looking out for her?" He nodded, agreeing to my request. I added quickly, "Can you do it quietly? If she's connected, I don't want to set off any alarm bells, or make you a target."

He frowned. "You make it sound like she's dangerous." I nodded, I knew she was. "And you're worried about me becoming a target?" I nodded again. "What about you?"

I took my lip between my teeth for a minute, thinking about the video she had of Ranger and me, admitting out loud for the first time, "I think I already am one."