Ranger‘s POV

I’m staring at the trunk of the Miata.

My personal choice? A Porsche 911. I wanted my Babe to match me but I knew not to buy that. I bought her a Miata and I heard she cried. I’d gotten the right thing.

I’m glad, because this car has shit for storage. Babe overpacked for a weeklong trip and nothing I said could get her to remove clothes. I wish Ella had been here, but she was in Newark with our family for Thanksgiving.

Les said it was the usual speculation on my life. Mom is worried about me. She and Abuela have worn a rosary away praying for me and Papa is praying that I come home safe and sound. My siblings had the usual comments, complaints and digressions.

He and Bobby enjoyed laughing at how wrong they were.

Alex thinks I’m gay, Celia wonders if I have a mistress or a girlfriend I’m keeping hidden, Ana believes I’m a tortured soul (like Christian Grey. WTF?!) and Sophia started lining up friends of hers who she believes are appropriate for me.

As usual, Celia was right or closest to right. But I’ll never acknowledge it.

Bobby asked a series of pointed questions that illustrated that Sophia knows nothing about me. So what made her think she could pick out a person for me? She doesn’t know my favorite color! She has no idea what I eat, how I live or what I believe in.

Sophia is not a fan of Bobby. She threw herself at him the first time she met him. Bobby very coolly detached her and said that he considered my sisters off-limits to him. She’s never gotten over the embarrassment and Les never lets her forget it. Les’s constant needling of her is why my sisters are wary of involving themselves in my life. Les will make them miserable unless I tell him to knock it off.

I won’t. If they want to make me miserable, he’ll make them miserable. What goes around comes around and, for them, a lot quicker than they’d like.

Les took the list. He now has a new list of possible playmates. He’s happy. Sophia’s not, I’m sure. I’m sure she’s telling all her friends not to date Les.

Bobby: You‘d think they would have learned by now that meddling in your life only brings Les into it.

Me: My sisters have a ‘right’ to know that I’m happy.

Bobby: Your sisters need to meet my sisters.

I like Bobby’s sisters. They faced just as much pressure from Mrs. Brown to marry as Bobby does and, although they’re both happily married now, they stick up for their big brother. They’re a united front against Mrs. Brown’s attempts to marry Bobby off to some overly educated debutante.

In any case, my siblings decided that gay was the far and away winner.

Luis shot that one down by saying I’m not gay, but not dating anyone.

True. I’m in a relationship with someone and it’s none of their business. Thanks, Luis.

Les told Ana that if she wanted to see a tortured soul, she should keep speculating.

That should keep her quiet until next year.

Les ended up in church. He covered it by volunteering to feed the hungry and homeless but I know him. He hates the guilt from knowing I’m an hour away and not speaking to the family, even if it’s because I’m supposed to be undercover.

That brought a smile to my face because I know Bobby went with him. Bobby hates churches of any denomination but he’ll agree to go volunteer in a heartbeat. That had to be a dilemma for him. Volunteer? Yes. Church? Ugh. Avoided it with Tank only to get caught there with Les. Tank and I laughed at the irony.

“I believe in God, but I don’t think much of his messengers,” Bobby says. “Haven’t met one yet I like. Well, maybe Mrs. CJ.”

No disagreement there. I step into church when she forces me to or when my grandmother needs an escort. Bobby is open to the idea of a God as a woman. Why not? he says. God as a construct is male only because his messengers have been. Who says God can‘t be female?

Tank loves picking on him about that. God as a woman is a bit radical for him.

I feel Bobby on that. Why not? Besides, too much of religion focuses on regulating behavior and making you feel guilty for normal emotions. I don’t allow myself to feel guilt. Sorrow? Yes. Remorse? Yes, I feel those, but not guilt. Guilt is a destructive and ultimately pointless emotion. It means needlessly analyzing a decision already made.

No point in that. Keep moving forward.

Which means I need to quit thinking of how much I’d love to stretch this little Miata or scrap the plan and load this stuff in the Cayenne. I bought the car, Babe loves the car, time to move forward. I try stuffing her suitcase, then her shoe bag, in the trunk, then lay my bags on their side. Finally! The trunk closes.

“You get everything in?” She hands me a coffee cup and I take a sip. Black, one sugar. Perfect.

“Yup.”

“We have room for another bag?”

“Nope.”

She frowns. “I didn’t pack all the Agent Provocateur stuff I wanted to bring.”

I stare at her. “Babe.”

“You like it.”

I take another sip of coffee. Keep it up, Babe. We won’t leave for a week.

“By the way, since Bobby said this is a challenge, what do we win?”

“Bragging rights.”

“That sucks as a prize.”

I smile. “You don’t know Bobby. It’s a prize, believe me. Ready?”

“You’re driving.”

Damn right I am. 0550 and we’re ready to go. Snacks in the back seat, coffee and six hours to Boston. This should be fun.

—oOo—

Hour One

“So, are we going 95 straight up?”

“No. CT-15 N.”

“I thought if you went I-95, you could hit anything on the East Coast.”

I’m learning something already. Babe does not plan trips in advance. She’s not a planner.

“I-95 terminates in Lawrence—”

“Lawrenceville?”

“Yeah. You’ve seen all the signs warning you that I-95 turns into I-295. I-95 is famous for the fact that it’s not finished and, technically, it does not run through Jersey.”

“How did that happen?”

“Look it up.”

Babe scrambles for her phone and looks it up. We both learn a little about the highway system.

“So they’re supposed to connect them up in four years?”

“Depends. Has the Mob been paid off?”

“Ranger!” She laughs.

I shrug. “Accidents happen. Anyway, 95 also doesn’t hit Boston.”

She keeps searching and nods. “Wow. Did not know.”

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“How would you have gone to Boston?” I’m just curious now. The idea that she can get in a car and not have a clue how to get somewhere astonishes me.

“I get in and go where the GPS tells me to go.”

I look over. “Who taught you to drive?”

“Jase.”

“Jase is getting a demotion.”

“Why!?”

“He didn’t tell you not to rely on GPS?” She squirms in the seat. “Always—”

“Always have an up-to-date map, don’t rely on GPS, and plan out the trip,” she recites. “Yes, he covered that.”

I glance at her. She’s playing with her phone now, trying to avoid looking at me, but I see her peek at me out the corner of my eye.

This is my life partner. She’s not a planner.

—oOo—

Steph‘s POV

OK, so I didn’t know I-95 doesn’t go to Boston. GPS would’ve gotten me there. Everyone relies on GPS now. Who prints maps anymore? Who buys maps anymore?

“Ranger?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we going to do?”

“Checking out the South Boston office puts us near Newbury—”

“Oh, I loved shopping there!”

Wolf smile. “Right. We’re checking out the office then you can go shopping while I relax.”

Sounds like a plan.

—oOo—

Hour Two

We hit Newark and traffic slows to a crawl. Everyone’s out shopping.

“Ranger?”

“Hmm?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

He looks over. I’m squirming. My bladder is talking.

“How long can you hold it?”

“Ranger!”

“Look around, Babe. Look familiar?”

“No.” It looks … like the rest of the highway.

“I grew up around here. It would blow my cover to stop here, so until we get away from this traffic you need to hold it.”

“I can’t hold it! I normally wake up around now. I’m normally in a bathroom by now.”

“You’re free to pee on your seats.” I glare at him but he shrugs. “Welcome to my life, Steph. I once held it two hours until I got to safety.”

“When?”

Ranger’s quiet. Finally, he starts telling me a story (I can tell he’s cleaning it up) about having to wait go in the middle of a jungle.

“Wouldn’t that have hidden the smell?”

“Nope. A: we were being tracked and B: the enemy was right behind us. I mean, so close that when we went over ridges we routinely caught bullets.” His jaw clenches. “Tank was grazed in the neck at one point. That’s when Les pulled out one of his insane plans.”

“What happened?”

He grins. “Middle of the jungle, no real cover and this idiot says, next sinkhole, we dive in and hold our breath.”

I frown. “Why?”

“Enemy passes by, we pop up and now we’re behind them.”

“A sinkhole?!”

“Les.”

I shake my head. “And?”

Ranger grins. “So we drop into the sinkhole. Mud up to our shins!” Ranger shudders. “I run a few meters away and take the world’s fastest piss. I mean, I nearly moan but I’d been running on a full bladder for two hours! Bobby checks Tank, and Les stretches and watches for me. I finally finish and run back and we watch the enemy pass overhead. Les and I boost Tank and Bobby out, then toss our packs out. Les turns to me and I see him freeze. I nearly turn to look but instead I ask what he’s staring at and he says, ‘you pissed?'” Ranger looks at me. “My piss had attracted a mountain lion.”

I start laughing. “That smelly?”

“The mountain lion had been in the corner. I’d pissed maybe five feet away from it.” I gasp. “Yeah. My pee was interesting to it. New animal, I guess. Kitty was curious.” Ranger’s grinning but he shrugs. I’m giggling, squeezing my thighs tighter and trying to hold on. “Tank grabbed Les and pulled him out while Bobby grabbed me. The mountain lion pounced, all three grabbed me, and I pulled my legs up in order to avoid receiving a ‘love tap’ from the cat.”

I’m laughing. Ranger’s shaking his head.

“I failed to pay attention to my surroundings trying to empty my bladder and a cat nearly got me. Meanwhile, the situation above ground hadn’t changed. We started hauling ass again, but later that night, once we were safe, the guys let me have it.” He shakes his head. “I never forgot. I nearly lost my dick to a cat, which is why Tank knows not to leave his kitties with me.” I crack up. Ranger waits until I calm down to motion out of the windshield. “This is too close to where I grew up. We get somewhere safe and I’ll pull over immediately.”

I squirm. “Fine.” Thinking of Ranger losing his dick to a cat both amuses and scares me. I love him, every inch, too much. The cat would have to give him his dick back.

He finally pulls into a rest stop (twenty minutes! Argghhh! I was two minutes from peeing on the side of the road) and I haul ass. I use the restroom, check my hair, and check it out.

Uggh … this place is disgusting and I’d have to stand in line for what seems like hours for everything. Not an option so I leave.

Ranger is typing away on his phone. I never really noticed how much time he spends on it but, now that I think of it, he’s been a phone geek ever since I met him.

“Ready?”

“One minute. Hec’s having a tantrum.”

“Why?”

“Nikki and Mark.” I stare at him, but he’s busy typing. He finally looks up, looks at my face, and smiles. “Boom-chika-boom-chika-boom-chika-wow wow!”

I collapse against the door laughing. “Ranger!”

“She’s kicked him out of the house. On one hand he’s thrilled. More Mijo time for him! On the other, he’s pretty certain he knows what they’re up to and he’s disgusted.”

“Hec needs a sex life.”

“Nikki called him a cock-block. He’s taking it personally.” Ranger restarts the car while I whip out my phone.

I‘m going to tell Manolo you’re only interested in celibate relationships.

Get out of my sex life!

Get out of Nikki‘s!

—oOo—

Ranger‘s POV

“How long have we been sitting here?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Let’s take an alternate route then.”

“Just as clogged.”

Steph groans and reaches into the back for a granola bar. I told her we’d get breakfast when we cleared NYC. That was thirty minutes ago. The Beast is reminding me that he’s unhappy every five minutes.

“Ranger! I need food.”

I sigh, aggravated, and look around. This is still too close to my old stomping grounds to be safe. “Bronx?”

“No.”

“I can’t.”

“Ranger—”

“Babe. We haven’t moved five miles since the rest stop.”

“You let me go!”

“I was able to park and keep my face hidden. You want to stop and get out, right?”

She reddens. “Drive through.”

“My face is next to the window.”

“Ranger, you’re being paranoid.”

“And I’m alive because of it.”

Her mouth snaps closed and she sits back, unhappy. The Beast is talking shit. I reach into the back and pass her the cooler. “Until we get away from this traffic you need to hold it and you need to eat the granola bars.”

“I don’t want a granola bar.”

“What did you bring to eat?”

“Lots of . . .” Her jaw sets but she grabs a granola bar.

It was her job to pack the food. She packed granola bars, fruit, and water for us but all her junk is in the trunk.

—oOo—

Hour Three

“I’ll have a Lumberjack special—”

“Babe, that’s ham, sausage and bacon.” My triglycerides are concerned for her.

She glares at me. The Beast is howling. “I know.”

“How you want the eggs?” the waiter asks.

“Scrambled. And the pancakes? How many?”

“Three.”

“Sounds good. Plus coffee and orange juice.” She hands him the menu. I’m wondering if she’ll be able to keep that down.

“You?”

I look at the menu. “Farmer’s omelet, made with egg whites, no cheese. Coffee.”

“That it?”

“Yeah.”

He takes my menu and calls the order. We’re in Tuckahoe. Normally, at the three hour mark, I’m cruising through Connecticut, but holiday traffic has been insane. It’ll take the full six hours to get to Boston. Glad I anticipated that.

“So, how far are we?”

“Three hours away.” Her jaw drops. “We lost an hour on the Jersey Turnpike and trying to get through the Cross Bronx and the Bruckner?” I shrug. “You got your plans for the girls done?”

She reddens. “Yeah. Javi told Jorge and Jorge called a concierge he knows. We got rooms at the Empire Hotel.”

I whistle. “How much is that setting you back, Babe?”

“More than I wanted, but I waited until the last minute. The concierge got the Rockettes tickets and arranged a carriage ride for us through Central Park.”

“How many are going to the Rockettes?”

She laughs. “It’s become a big thing. Every RangeMan with a child wanted in, so we have fifty going.”

I swallow my coffee to avoid choking. “Really?”

“Yeah. None of them have ever seen it. Wall Streeters, hood guys. Javi is the only person in the office besides Lucia who’s seen it.”

“Touristy.”

“That’s what Jorge said, but he got Annelise and they’re coming.”

“Dinner?”

“That’s just me, Jorge, and Mack with Angie and MA, Mack’s boys and Jorge’s daughter. Jorge voted for DBGB Kitchen and Bar. He says we’ll like it. It specializes in sausages, hot dogs, and pub grub.”

I snort. I’ve heard a lot about Jorge. He sounds interesting. Another Les. All the strategists are like Les in some way, which makes Diego’s move to XO interesting to me. I remember Mack, vaguely, but Thomas I remember vividly. If Mack is anything like his cousin, I’ll like him. Never met anyone so determined, and successful, at keeping his past a complete secret.

“Daniel Boulud’s name is on it. It’ll also be a little pricey.”

“How pricey?”

“Better check the menu.”

She looks. “Well, that’s not so bad.”

I look. “For NYC prices and the name on the door, that’s downright cheap.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re staying at RangeMan, right?”

“Right. All of us are camping in Les’s apartment.”

Like old times. Too bad I can’t hang Les out of the window by his ankles. That was hilarious.

—oOo—

Hour Four

“Babe?”

“I feel sick.”

“Sick enough that I should pull over?”

“Please.”

I pull over, Babe yanks the door open, and immediately attempts the record for vomit. Not bad. I smell pancakes.

She finally finishes and closes the door. I hand her a bottle of water and a baby wipe. “Baby wipe?”

“Advance planning.”

—oOo—

She’s out cold. Between the stomach upset and the early start, I didn’t think she’d last long. I’m cruising now, making up for lost time.

This is nice. It hasn’t been so bad this morning. We managed not to scream at each other at various points. I learned she’s not a planner.

I knew this, but I thought that lack of foreplanning was limited to her bounty hunting. Now I see that I was wrong. That’s pretty much her MO. She has a thought, she acts on the thought.

Spontaneity. She’s spontaneous. She’s spontaneous and I’m a planner. Well, we balance each other there.

She learned … I wonder what she’s learned about me.

—oOo—

Hour Five

Steph‘s POV

“Babe?”

I yawn and retaste those pancakes. Aw, it tasted soooo good going down. Why doesn’t vomit taste good coming up? I mean, everything you’re getting rid of tasted great on the way down. There’s something unfair about that.

“Hmm?”

“We’re hitting hour six, Babe. Need you to take over soon.”

“Where are we?”

“Just past Hartford, CT.”

I look around but I still don’t feel great. “I don’t wanna drive. You drive.”

“Babe.”

“Bobby can go to hell. I’m not telling him. You drive to Boston.”

“No complaining later.”

“I won’t say a word.”

—oOo—

“Babe?”

“Hmm?” Ranger smells so good. Almost lickable. Come closer. I want to taste you.

“Upstairs, Babe. I’ll let you lick whatever you want.”

My eyes fly open. Ranger has the 1000W smile going. “You didn’t hear that.”

“Of course not.”

I look around. Garage of RM-Boston and Mike’s looking slightly panicked.

“I get the feeling that no one’s been warned I’m on the road.”

“I didn’t tell them.”

“I didn’t either.”

Ranger nods at Mike then turns back to me. “This is gonna be fun.”

You have a weird sense of fun, Ranger. Now strip.

“Yes, mistress.”

—oOo—

After brushing my teeth, taking a shower, licking Ranger, and taking another shower, I’m beat. Ranger has a burst of energy.

“Come on, Babe. Show me around.”

He’s pulling on his SWAT. I’m boneless.

“Go get to know Mike.”

“I know Mike.” I wait, looking at him. “He was in the first RangeMan class.”

“Really?”

He kisses me. “The real reason the Trenton men were watching him?” I wait. “Mike was the RangeMan brother in charge of their recruit class. Tradition dictates that we drop you somewhere thirty miles from RangeMan and force you to run back. Reminds you to rely on your brothers and that we can survive anything. Mike dropped them in the Pine Barrens. They were plotting revenge, I promise you.”

I sit up. “Hal didn’t tell me that.”

He grins. “His class is known for taking their time with payback. I guarantee you Mike’s forgotten but Hal hasn’t.”

—oOo—

Ranger‘s POV

Steph’s upstairs taking a nap. I’m examining Boston top to bottom. The men are accustomed to seeing me here, so my presence is welcome.

The difference between this branch and Miami. In Miami, by the time I’d made it to the second floor, my presence would have made it to the seventh. Everyone would know. In Boston, I can move floor by floor because each man knows to keep his mouth shut.

One is not better or worse than the other. It’s just the difference. Yankee reticence vs. Caribbean nosiness. Both can work to my advantage.

I meet Mike on five.

“Sir.”

I nod. “SitRep.”

“Normal. Prevented three burglaries, two frauds, and we’re watching activity at a bank very carefully. Chas think it’s a robbery in progress, so we’ve informed the FBI and BPD.”

I’m watching. It’s a robbery. It’s being done very quietly but I note the moment one of the tellers finally has a chance to press the silent alarm.

“Inside job.”

Everyone looks at me. I point to the teller who activated the alarm. “She wasn’t in on it, so she doesn’t know. The rest are panicking. Watch the body language.” Every man watches. Three tellers are in on this job. “BPD and FBI in place?”

“Yes, sir,” Chas says. “They’re ready to arrest.”

“Make sure they get the tellers. All of them.”

“Our men are also there, sir.”

“Tell them to stay back. Once FBI is on the scene, it’s their jurisdiction. Our men are advisory and support only.”

I’m looking at Chas’s chair. “Nice chair, Sansone. When did Les authorize these?”

He reddens. “He didn’t, sir. The CO did. Said she hated sitting in uncomfortable chairs as much as we did, sir.” He pales. “Not that your original chairs were uncomfortable, sir.”

I’m laughing inside. “You just wanted heat pads and massage inserts?”

“Well …”

“It’s fine, Sansone. Well?”

He smirks. “There’s never been a problem doing monitor duty around here, sir, but I had to institute a new rule: You want a chair? Sign up for a shift! I’m never short on men now, sir.”

I smile. “Good job.”

—oOo—

“Daddy!”

I glance back. A tiny towheaded little boy is running at full speed to Mike.

“I’m not here.”

“No, sir.”

Mike lifts his son and I search the memory banks for a name. Samuel? I believe it’s Samuel. Wife is Deirdre. Legal secretary.

“Who are you?”

Mike reddens. “That’s Daddy’s boss, Sam. Don’t point and be polite.”

“Yes, Daddy,” he says, still staring at me. I nod and he hides behind his father’s neck and peeks out at me.

“Samuel. I’m Alex. How are you?”

He turns his face away and I grin. “How’s the babysitting going?”

“Childcare,” he says quickly. I raise a brow. “Childcare. The RSG has mandated—”

“The what?”

He grins. “The RangeWoman Support Group.” I’m laughing mentally. “Chaired by Lula Jackson and Mariela Cortes, sir. They mandated that the use of the word ‘babysitting’ was prohibited. Fathers do not babysit their children, they said.”

“Understood.”

Lula and Mari? Hilarious, but that’s a good match. Two incredibly strong women who are used to serving as support for everyone else. Yeah, that’s a good idea and the right two women to lead it. I wonder if we can make that an official auxiliary group to RangeMan … set up a bank account to allow the ladies to do their activities, get them their own SharePoint site to share support, info and encouragement. Plus, it’ll give us a chance to remind the women that the work their husbands do is classified. No talking.

Yeah. I like that idea. I type a reminder on my phone and store that away as something to work with Candace, Lula and Mariela to build. If they’re interested. Lots of things to consider there.

I wait as Mike talks to his son for a few minutes. Sam missed his Dad and wanted to come say hello. The fact that he gets to see where Daddy works is a bonus. He thinks Daddy works at the ‘funnest place evah!’

I grin mentally. I hope so, kid. I want to make this a place where people want to work for us.

—oOo—

Steph‘s POV

I have some energy now, so I go looking for Ranger. I hit the fifth floor and Chas smiles at me.

“CO.”

“Hey, Chas!” I get another fancy handshake. “Seen the boss?”

“He’s with Mike in his office. He’s been scoping out the place.”

“Yeah? What do I need to know?”

Chas frowns, thinking. “Well, the new office is staffed and open. Vic’s running it today while Mike runs this office.”

“How’s Mike doing?”

Chas smirks. “It’s like Mark never left.”

I grin. God, his accent is thick but Chas is funny. I look around. The men aren’t packed in so tight anymore. “What happened here?”

“We transferred monitoring for half our downtown clients to the new office. And thank you for the chairs. I never have problems getting volunteers for monitoring shifts.”

I laugh and pat his arm as I leave. I find Ranger and Mike in Mark’s office with Sam.

“Hi!”

“Steph.” I nearly frown before remembering that Ranger said he intended to keep it professional in front of the men. “Have you met Sam?”

“No. I’ve seen his picture.” I wave. “Hi, Sam.”

He buries his face in his father’s neck. Ranger glances at me. “OK, it’s not just me.”

“What?”

“I didn’t get an answer either.”

I roll my eyes. “Are we headed to the new office?”

Mike nods. “I’ll tell Vic.”

“Don’t.” Ranger smiles. “I want to walk in and surprise him.”

Mike lifts a brow. “My boss is going to kill me.”

—oOo—

The South Boston office (which is located in the North End) is the end office space in a complex, almost like the end townhouse in a group of townhomes. We pull up and park.

That’s the first thing we notice: Parking is tight and in the open.

“No garage.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Ranger’s clearly unhappy about possibly showing his face.

I call Vic. “Hey!”

“Hey, CO. What’s up?”

“Any way to get in without parking on the street?”

“There’s an alley in the back. Pull around.”

I direct Ranger around to the back and Ranger nods. The guys constructed a covered awning next to the door. We’re able to pull in and park without being seen.

“That has to be addressed ASAP.”

I stare at him. “Am I taking notes?”

He stares. I roll my eyes and pull out a notepad and make a note. I pull out my phone. “Yo.”

“Ms. Plum.” I’m not sure which RangeMan this is.

“Is Vic there?”

“He’s in contract negotiations. One moment.” Moments later, “Ms. Plum?”

“Hi, Vic! Is the entry clear?”

“No. I’m finishing contract negotiations. There’s a back stairwell next to the door. Take that to the second floor.”

“Thanks!” Click. I tell Ranger, who nods. He runs up to the door and uses his keyfob to enter. He dashes up the stairs while I head into the main area of the first floor.

This is a really nice setup. The guys set up a partition and I see one RangeMan manning the entrance. I keep walking around. There are conference tables, offices, and a small kitchen on the first floor. Nice. The first floor is all business.

Highlighted by the impressive display of weaponry cabinets. Six standing side by side, locked with electronic deadbolts. Les will change it to something subtle and scary, I’m sure.

I finally spot Vic and wave at him. He’s in his suit and he smiles and waves me into the doorway. The men stand.

“Gentlemen, this is Stephanie Plum, the Managing Director.” There are three men there in business suits and they nod at me.

“We were just concluding a negotiation, Ms. Plum,” Victor says, smile tight.

“Oh! I’m sorry I kept calling.” I smile at the businessmen. “My first time trying to locate this office. Look, I don’t want to interrupt—”

“No, no, please sit. Since we have the managing director of the company here, I think it would be helpful to discuss the contract with you.”

I smile. “I’d love to, but I only stepped in to talk to Victor for a moment on my way to the airport. Trying to get out ahead of the second wave of traffic.” I pat Vic’s arm. “If you’d like to discuss the contract with me or Mark Phillips, please let Victor schedule a convenient time for everyone to sit and discuss it.”

“Oh.” The businessman looks disappointed but he and the other two men stand and shake Vic’s hand. They’re gone ten minutes later.

“Smooth,” Vic says, smiling. “Thanks for the calls. They were getting needlessly picky.”

“No problem. Your boss is here.”

Vic frowns. “I just talked to Mark. He’s at RangeMan Atlanta.”

“Not that boss.” Ranger appears and the room, which was already quiet, is silent. Every man jumps to his feet. He motions for everyone to sit.

I’m watching the reaction to Ranger. It’s electric. The men are on edge, waiting for any sign or signal from him. He nods. “At ease.” They sit, still watchful. “Vic.”

“Sir.” Even Vic is tense and I pinch him.

Well, I tried. Vic’s butt is like granite. I can’t pinch anything and he looks at me in confusion.

“Umm … relax? At ease?”

He doesn’t shift at all. Ranger inclines his head and Vic finally relaxes slightly. “Quick tour, please.” He extends his hand for the contract.

Victor hands him the contract and starts pointing out features of the office. I’m taking notes. We hit the second floor and the men are up there are stiff, waiting on a signal from Ranger.

I’m tempted to order everyone to stand on their heads until I remember what Ranger always said about his authority in front of his men. I stand quietly next to him and wait to see what he does.

Victor shows us the second floor monitoring space. Everything is spacious and one of the men waves at me.

“Ms. Plum.”

“Hi.” I think. “Reggie, right?”

“Right.” He motions for me to take the chair, so I sit.

“Oh man, these are great.”

I remember Dash and he smiles. “I did a ten hour shift without realizing it because of this chair.”

I laugh and the guys start telling me how much they like the chairs.

“What about the location?” Ranger asks and it gets quiet again. Each man looks at each other, unsure.

“Seriously? No one has a complaint?” I ask, lifting a brow. I see a lot of hidden smiles, including Ranger’s. “It took us 45 minutes to get through traffic to get here!”

“Then what are you complaining about? You breezed through traffic,” Vic says. That gets laughs.

“Well, this is a great location—” Reggie begins.

“Until it’s time to go home.”

“And parking is hell.”

The guys don’t have a lot of complaints about this location but their complaints are mostly about getting there. Ranger nods and takes notes.

“Mike’s talking about getting prepaid T passes for us, so we could park at main office then take the T and the Silver Line down here.”

Ranger nods. “Good idea. Pre-tax and it reduces taxable income, I think.”

The men smile and I stand.

Ranger’s really brilliant. He knows this stuff.

And I’m the ‘talky’ face. I see how it works. I see my place. I grab Ranger’s hand and he looks at me in surprise, but I smile at him. He smiles back and squeezes tight.

—oOo—

“Ranger?”

“Hmm?”

I’m still thinking about how we worked together at the South Boston office. “What did you think of the office?”

He’s quiet. “We need another one.”

“What?! Why?”

“We’ll outgrow that space too fast.” I gather the empty plates and take them to the kitchen. Ranger’s making notes on his laptop. Susan cooked dinner and it was wonderful.

“I like that space.”

He nods. “I think it would be a good idea to put the client services guys down there. Let them negotiate contracts from that location because it’s good for high-end clients, but we need more space.” I look over his shoulder at his screen. He’s staring at a piece of land.

“Thinking of building?”

“Yeah, but Tank would shit kittens over this. Miszoned, railway easement, and expensive.” He sighs. “I wonder if Les saw it.”

“Check the notes on the South Boston office assessment.” Ranger stares at me, so I surf into RangeWorld and find the correct notes. “Looks like he did … and Tank rejected a location downtown for the reasons you mentioned.”

Ranger looks and laughs. “Yeah. That’s the piece of land I was just looking at. OK, that’s dead in the water.”

“Tank controls budget to that level?” I ask.

He nods. “Tank has never been extravagant. Never been flashy.” He sighs and closes his laptop. “Tank controls the money because the rest of us don’t understand the word budget.”

I sit and grin. “That bad?”

“Bobby’s family is wealthy. He’s always had the best of everything. Bobby drove a Mercedes in college.” My jaw drops. Wow. “Les and I grew up in immigrant families that believed in saving every dollar. We couldn’t have anything as kids because our family believed in saving every penny.”

“Ergo, your Porsches and Les … what does Les spend on?”

“Les likes classic muscle cars and high performance cars. Like his Pontiac GTO.”

I blush crimson and flip Ranger a finger. “And the Aston Martin. Yeah yeah, OK. So … Tank?”

He sighs. “Tank watched his mother work two and three jobs all his life. His upbringing was rough. The moment he could get a job or find a way to earn money to help, he did. Tank believes in saving every penny he can, but he also believes in investing in people.” Ranger stares at me for a moment. “I never told you any of what I’m about to say.”

“I know.” I get comfortable.

“Good. Mrs. CJ was a teen mother. It ran in their family. Tank was determined to stop it, so he would send his mother nearly his entire Army salary to help ease her burdens and pay for his sisters to go to college. Before he became a Ranger, Tank worked two jobs off-base to support himself and send more money home to help. He expected his mother to just put it in the bank, but his sister convinced her to invest it. That’s what Chenae used to start his fortune. She invested his money for him and that helped ease the burden even more.”

I have tears in my eyes listening to this. Tank’s … Tank’s just beyond words. I mean, who cares that deeply?

“When I realized how hard this man worked to support so many people, I realized my RB was a deeper man than I’d ever be. I already knew Tank was a great guy, a steady soldier, but he was the first man I’d met in years that I’d follow into hell,” Ranger says quietly. “I trusted him completely, so I started sending my money home to his mother for his sister to invest. That was the start of my fortune.”

My jaw drops. “Bobby? Les?”

“Used Bobby’s parents’ stockbroker. Excellent return rate. My money is invested with Gennie, Bobby’s sister, and Paul, his parents’ stockbroker.”

I sit back, sobered. “Not Chenae?”

“She’s not licensed, but I hear Gennie is willing to offer her a job. Bobby talked her up to his sister and got her an interview. I gave Tank $5,000 to give to Chenae. She needs to prove that what she did as a teenager wasn’t a fluke, so we’ve all ponied up money for her to invest and prove herself.” He’s quiet for a few minutes. “Anyway, Tank’s the perfect person to watch the money. Bobby, Les and I will spend without limits if the money’s there. Tank’s always watching the bottom line. He’ll spend, but he’ll also cut us off if we spend too much so I better have a good reason to spend the money if I want to overrule him.”

I grin. “And Hec? How will he impact that?”

“Another Tank.” I laugh. Ranger looks disgruntled. “Hector’s main expense is Mijo. Otherwise, he’s tightfisted too.”

“No he’s not,” I reply, thinking of the guayaberas in San Antonio.

“Yes, he is. Hec spends in spurts. Otherwise? He’s tightfisted.”

Ranger kisses my forehead and heads to the shower. I’m curled up on the couch thinking about that.

I don’t like Chenae. I really don’t because … because … because she told me to pull my head out of my ass when I didn’t want to hear that. I mean, she might have been right to tell me I was acting like a shit friend, but that was none of her business. But, for some reason, I want to help her. I want to send her a check for her to invest too. Not because she deserves it (because I don’t like her) but because … because …

Because she wanted to help her brother. She wanted to surprise him with something good and she did. And she helped Ranger. She helped him get his start too. She helped two men I love get their start and I want to say thank you. If she’s trying to get a job investing money for a living, I want to help.

Plus, the interest rate on bank accounts is pathetic. I could use a boost.

I take out my checkbook and look for my phone.

“Hey!”

“Hey, White Girl! What’s up?”

“Not much. What’s going on?”

“Itis.”

“What?”

Lula laughs. “I learned a new word. Itis. The sleepy feeling you get after eating too much. What’s up?”

“I need to get in touch with Chenae.”

“Chenae? Why?”

“I want to invest in her fund.”

Lula is quiet. “Steph, that’s great. She’s here. Hold on.”

I hear some noise in the background then “Hello?”

“Chenae?”

“Yes?”

“Stephanie Plum here. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She sounds surprised. “I hope you had a Happy Thanksgiving.”

“It was fine, thanks. Look, I’ll make this short. I hear you’ve started a fund to prove you know how to invest.”

She’s silent. “Yes … yes, I have.”

“Is it too late to get in?”

“No, it’s not. You want a share?”

“Yes, I would.”

“If I may ask, why? I mean, our last meeting wasn’t exactly friendly.”

There’s a hint of challenge in her voice and my inner Burg girl comes out.

“No, it wasn’t. You were fucking rude to me and you know nothing about me, but this isn’t about me. This is about you. I heard you were starting a fund to prove you know what you’re doing and I’d like to join. Not because I think you’re a wonderful person, because I really don’t. I want to join because I think your brother is a wonderful person, because he is. He has the biggest heart of anyone I know and he’s been trying to help me for months. I’d like to do something to show him I’m starting to understand. And your mother helped me out a great deal when I visited. If I can help her daughter, even though she was rude to me, then I’ll consider her advice to me repaid.”

I start rummaging through my purse, looking for a pen. I finally find one and click it. “So who do I make the check out to?”

“Me. Chenae LaPierre. One share is $5,000, which entitles you to monthly reports detailing the fund’s holdings, current value, and any potential dividends or losses.”

I start writing the check. “Fine. I’ll put it in the mail tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” I’m writing a note to find a stamp when I hear, “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” I hear a sigh. “Look, I got angry because you were being mean to Lula—”

“Like you didn’t treat her like crap for months—”

“I know. I didn’t have any right to insult you like that. Momma tore my hide.” I smile. I love Tank’s Momma. “I guess I was mad at you because I really wanted to see the friend Lula brags about all the time.”

I put the pen down. “What do you mean?”

“Lula bragged about her friends before you arrived. You especially. About how you’d had it rough but you’d inspired her to do something different.” Her voice cracks. “I don’t have female friends. The ones I had? It was all about what I had that I could give them but when I needed them, when the chips were down, none of them were there for me. Lula told me her friends were ride-or-die for her and I don’t have female friends like that. I don’t have friends like that.”

I hear her take a shuddering breath and I sit back and listen to her pull herself back together. I know how she feels. “The way Lula was talking about you, Connie, and Mary Lou? I couldn’t wait to see you, to see what a close female friendship looks like and you …” I hear her sniff.

“I was a fucking disappointment.”

“Yeah.” We’re both quiet. “I’ve never seen women act the way Pierre and his friends do. Ric? Les? Bobby? They’ve known each other for thirteen years. I’ve watched the same three guys show up with my brother year after year, whatever he needed, they’ve been there since I was eight years old. My Momma adopted them and they adopted her. I mean, how many of your friends have you had for thirteen years?”

Mary Lou. That’s it.

“My sisters haven’t kept the same friends and they tell me ‘oh, people grow apart. Things change. Life happens’ and I thought, ‘but Pierre still has the same friends’. A lot of Antoine’s friends he’s kept for five or ten years. Why is it women can never keep a group of friends that long? So, I wanted to see Lula’s friends. The same group of friends for four years? I thought that only happened in movies.”

We both laugh. I wipe my eyes. She’s making a good point.

“Anyway, Lula ripped my behind too. It wasn’t my place to be rude to her best friend, she said. She thought you might be going through something and if she could hold her tongue, I should have. ‘That’s what friendship is about,’ she said. ‘Being there for someone, not making them feel bad just because you do.'”

I really don’t deserve Lula as a friend.

“So … thank you. I appreciate your investment and I’ll make sure to invest your money wisely.”

I sigh. “Look, honestly, you did me a favor. You were the only person who ripped me a new asshole that weekend and even though I didn’t appreciate it, I can’t say you weren’t honest. That’s why I’m sending you this money. You were honest when it wasn’t your place to say anything.”

“Thanks.” She laughs. “You know, Lula was right.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. She told me not to underestimate her friends because they would surprise me.”