Disclaimer I am not Janet Evanovich, and I did not create any of the characters. I am not making money off this (unforunately -sigh-) and it is just good solid fun between the books and life.

Note Ranger's POV. And yes I'm still writing Ten and a Half, but I had this idea swimming in my head so I just decided to spill the guppy and see where it leads.

Spoilers/Warnings Nope, none that I forsee.

I woke up to the sound of a car backfiring somewhere below the apartment outside. I had crashed here because it was the closest place, and last night I was plumb tired. Tank and I had just spent the night on stakeout, and the skip didn't even show. Before that, the boys and I had chased some guy that had run a red light, and when the cop pulled him over, it appeared that he had a load of drugs on him. The man shot the cop in the shoulder, and now it was our duty to catch the SOB because the man happened to be someone I knew, had previously caught when he was a first-time skip on a drug possession charge. The police, however legal and trained they were, didn't help all that much. They just didn't have the right drive, you know?

And the morning before, I had woken up from a dazzling nightmare at three in the morning, and hadn't gone back to sleep. I was unnerved. I never got nightmares that rattled me that much. I didn't even remember what it was about when I woke up, but I had sat bolt upright. I always thought it was theatrical dramaticity when they did that in the movies, but I guess it actually happens.

After trying for an hour to get back to sleep now, I couldn't, so I got up with a sigh and headed for the shower. I just stood there for a while, halfheartedly trying to remember the dream I had the other night.

Nope, nothing.

A half hour in the shower and I was starting to show signs of pruning, so I turned the water off and started to dress. Today there was a meeting at six-thirty with a new client, and I had to be there. The man was a well-known well-off businessman, and he would do good for our paychecks. Not that we espicially needed it, but hey.

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During the long boring meeting, I nearly nodded off twice. Lester noticed and looked at me asking for details once, but I just shook my head. Just tired. Nothing wrong with that.

But in my line of business it could be, I thought. Mabye I better get some sleep.

But the client blabbed on, and my men were talking to him back in a drone, and I was losing grip of where the conversation was going. Dammit, I told myself. Get a grip. I snapped myself awake and made myself pay attention. This was going to be a long day.

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I had managed to spend the rest of my day remarkably awake, even though I was alone and undisturbed for hours on end. The next time I looked at my clock it was getting on six, and by seven I would be totally done with all my work. Or wait. I was the boss. I could retire early. The papers in front of me could wait, they honestly weren't all that important. With a long sleepy sigh, I lifted myself out of my chair, left the office and locked up, and was heading to the elevator when my cell phone rang.

Who in the world could that be? I thought as I grabbed it from my pocket and looked at the caller ID and gave a small smile. My Babe was calling. And for whatever reason it was, I would be awake for that. My tiredness symptoms had been put on hold for the moment as soon as I saw her name.

"Yo," I said into the mouthpiece.

"Umm...Ranger?" came a reply. I could something was up, because she sounded shaky, unsure. Oh God, please let it be nothing I can't handle.

"Yeah."

"There's blood in my apartment."

I paused at that, and immediately turned my course back the way I came, heading to the parking garage. This I had to be there for.

"How much?"

"Well...theres a bit on the foyer...than a trail to the couch, and it stops at the closet."

Dammit, I thought. What psyco is after her now?

"Did you open the closet?" I had a feeling she hadn't.

"No. I thought mabye you could." By now I was in my truck and pulling out of the garage, full speed ahead to her apartment.

"I'll be there in 10," I said then disconnected. With Steph's luck and history of psycotic bastards out to get her, I wasn't going to be all that shocked if there was a body in her closet. But why put a body in a closet, I asked myself? Why not just leave it somewhere where she would be sure to see it first off. Unless the blood was purely meant to terrorize. I couldn't rule that out with my Babe. She had stumbled across a good number of enemies in her time at this job. But she wanted to continue being a bounty hunter, so I continued helping her out. I never wanted her to seriously quit, like Morelli always wants her to. I just want to make her better at the job.

Like I promised, I was in her parking lot in ten minutes, and headed up the stairs to her doorway. She was standing in the hall, shaking slightly, waiting for me. I rested a hand on my gun purely by impulse at the fearful and slightly sick look in her face. This had happened to her too many times. But with her lower lip out like that she looked to damn cute.

I draped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. "Do you want to wait out here or do you want to go in with me?"

She looked up and I already knew the answer. "Okay. I'll only be a minute."

I kissed the top of her head and dropped my arm to my gun and unholstered it. Opening her apartment I let by body shield the sight of the blood trails from her, than slowly stepped over the jamb and closed the door.

She was right. The trail of blood led from the door, past the couch, and stopped at the closet. I pointed my gun inside and wrenched open the door, and looked to the wood-covered ground, expecting to see a body crumpled up on the floor, bleeding profusely.

Boy was I wrong.