Joe stood as if poleaxed. "What the hell?" he demanded.

Dickie swallowed convulsively. "Look," he stammered. "I'm not a kidnapper, okay? I know where she is, but I need to cut a deal." Dickie's voice ended in a sharp squeak as Joe slammed him up against the wall.

"What the fuck do you mean? What the hell have you done to my daughter?" I had never seen Joe like this. Dickie's face was turning a deep red, and Joe didn't show any signs of loosening the grip he had on Dickie's throat.

"Look, that's what I'm trying to tell you. It wasn't me, okay? I didn't know she meant it. I thought it was just the booze talking."

Remy went over and shoved his badge in front of Dickie's bulging eyes. "You see this? I'm an FBI agent. You need to start talking. Now." Remy forcibly removed Joe's fingers from Dickie's throat, and unceremoniously shoved him at the nearest chair. Dickie collapsed in a heap, as Tank and Ranger moved silently to either side of the chair. Dickie was surrounded, and he knew there was no hope of escape. He nervously slicked back his thinning hair and tried on some bravado. "Look, I'd like to point out that I'm here on my own. I came here voluntarily. I just don't want to be hung out to dry for trying to do the right thing."

"The right thing?" Once again, Joe was in a fury and ready to pounce on Dickie at the slightest provocation.

"Start at the beginning," said Remy, "And talk fast. I can't hold him back forever." He canted his head in Joe's direction, and I swear I could practically see Joe's teeth rotate he was grinding his jaw so hard.

"Okay. Last night I went down to Angelo's Bar for New Year's Eve. I was sitting at a bar stool minding my own business when Terry Gilman waltzed in and sat down next to me." Joe's face turned chalk white, and he sat back and leaned against the wall, as if his legs could no longer support him.

"I admit it—we had something in common. Neither one of us can stand the sight of the two of you." He glanced at Joe, and then back at me.

"Yeah, you made that clear when you fucked Joyce Barnhardt on the dining room table, Dickie. Cut to the chase and tell me what you did to my daughter, you son of a bitch." I was practically growling. Now that he was in front of me, the sheer scope of my rage surprised me.

"Don't get high and mighty with me, Stephanie," Dickie spit. "At least Joyce could remember my name when I was fucking her which is more than I can say for you!"

I bared my teeth and moved toward Dickie with my fingernails flexed, ready to rip his stupid, lying face off.

"Okay, okay!" He held up his hands in surrender. "We both had a lot to drink, but pretty soon Terry started talking crazy. It was like she thought you had stolen her baby—her baby with Joe." I shook my head at him. That didn't make any sense. "I told you it was crazy! I'm just telling you what she said, okay? So she was talking like Sofia was her baby with Joe, and she had to steal her back. I was shit-faced drunk by then, and when she invited me to leave with her, I honest to God thought she just wanted to get laid. I didn't know she was really going to take the baby until we were here."

"Swear to God, Stephanie, I tried to talk her out of it. I swear to you, I did. But she was acting crazy. And I started worrying about what would happen if I left her alone with the kid. So I stayed with her, to make sure she didn't hurt the kid." Dickie was looking at me beseechingly, and I kind of believed him. He was a worm of a man, but he'd never been dangerous. Stupid and selfish yes, but not violent.

"I spent all day today trying to calm her down. I finally got her to trust me enough to let me go out and buy the kid more diapers and milk. Swear to God, I came straight here. You gotta believe me. I'm not a kidnapper. I've got my reputation to think about, my law practice. But I couldn't leave her until I was sure the kid was safe." Dickie was breathing hard, and the spit was flying he was talking so fast. I didn't' think he was lying.

"Where is she?" Joe bit out.

"Terry's apartment. She's in the second bedroom. She's got a whole baby's room set up in there. Scary as hell. Terry doesn't even have kids." Dickie answered readily.

"One last thing," said Joe, just before he hit Dickie with a beautiful roundhouse swing straight to the jaw. "Don't you ever come near my family again, or I'll kill you." Dickie worked his jaw experimentally, then nodded as he looked away. Joe wasn't boasting. Dickie would not be breathing if Joe ever saw him again.

Ranger and Remy were both simultaneously talking urgently into their cell phones, mobilizing the people who had been on high alert all day with no place to go. We finally had a location,

And a name.

As I looked at Joe's bleached face, I vowed that Terry Gilman would never again touch our family with her tainted claws.

Fifteen minutes later, Dickie was on his way back to Terry's apartment, and the FBI and Trenton PD had both been notified and told about the rough plan for rescuing Sofi. Cop cars had already moved in stealthily to make an impenetrable perimeter. Remy's FBI helicopters were at high altitude where Terry wouldn't see or hear them, yet her building was under complete surveillance from the sky with infrared scopes. Rangeman employees were strategically placed to augment the law enforcement types, and a rough plan was already in place.

Joe would be bait for Terry, and try to lure her away from the back bedroom. Ranger's men were already in place on the roof of the apartment building, ready to lower down to the bedroom window where we believed Sofi was being held. Ranger would actually enter the apartment, then hopefully hand Sofi off to Lester through the window. If necessary, Lester would lower Sofi down to Tank who would be waiting on the ground below the window. Remy would coordinate the law enforcement personnel on site.

Joe had gone upstairs to change into dark clothes, and I took advantage of his absence to load my Sig and carefully concealed it deep in my purse. With any luck, Sofi would be recovered without incident, but I wanted my pound of flesh. Terry Gilman didn't know it, but her breaths were numbered. A cold certainty calmed my heartbeat, and I was ready to roll.

We said little on the ride to Terry's apartment building, each of us lost in their own thoughts. We had left Lula and Connie at the house, but I hadn't even considered staying behind. It was my right as Sofi's mother to be there, and I dared anyone to argue the point.

We pulled up in front of Terry's building, and I saw Ranger ooze around the side of the building and disappear. Tank is bulkier, but he didn't make a sound as he too, disappeared. I saw Remy move toward a dilapidated brown van and realized that the van was probably the decoy vehicle for the backup entry team.

Joe's face was hard in the moonlight, and he pulled out his cell phone and began to dial.

"Be careful," I whispered, and kissed him hard and fast.

"You, too," he said, then pushed the button to connect.

"Terry, it's Joe. Pick up the phone, Terry. Look, Terry, I know you're there. Please pick up the phone. We need to talk." I was amazed at the control in his voice. He sounded warm, even anxious, though his face was still a hard mask. He dropped his head and hung up. "Come on, come on, come on." He muttered.

A few minutes later, the cell phone finally rang, and we both breathed a sigh of relief. Joe held up his hand in an unnecessary reminder for me to be quiet, but I was so tense I was barely breathing. "Terry? Yeah, it's Joe. Listen, I really need to talk to you. Can I come up?" He listened for a moment. "No, Terry. I'm not mad. I just want to talk about you and me and the baby. We need to plan for the future." I nodded in appreciation. Joe hadn't lied to her. He did want to talk about Terry and the baby, and he did have a plan. His plan didn't include Terry walking free.

My plan didn't include Terry breathing.

I kept my breathing slow and regular, unwilling to give myself away even to Joe. "Okay," I heard him say, "I'll be right up."

Joe stopped to kiss me goodbye, then signaled Remy to let him know he was going inside. With luck, Lester, Ranger and Tank were all in place and ready to move. Remy had fitted Joe with a microphone, so they could stay in contact, but I wasn't able to listen in.

I stayed hunched down on the seat of the Explorer, barely moving, waiting for the word that Sofi was safe.

Finally, finally, at long last, Tank came around the side of the building, his massive thighs eating the ground at a ferocious rate. He ran past Remy and the feds, and dodged the well-meaning uniforms who tried to intercept him. I felt tears sting my eyes, as I realized he was making a bee-line straight for the Explorer and there could be only one reason. I wrenched open the door of the Explorer and practically flew from the seat. I launched myself at Tank's massive chest, and he caught me as I ran. "Is she okay? Is she okay? Where is she?" My words ran over the top of each other, and I gave him no chance to answer.

His teeth gleamed like the finest ivory in his ebony face as he carefully unzipped his jacket. "I think she likes Uncle Tank," he said happily, and Sofi's inquisitive head popped up over the top of his zipper.

"Ma!" Sofi squealed in delight, and I snatched her to me, practically squeezing the breath out of her until she began to protest in earnest, wiggling and squirming in an effort to get free of my hard embrace. I loosened my hold on her and laughed into her dear, sweet face. I had never heard a more welcome sound in my entire life. I covered her in kisses, and once again, she tried to wiggle free. My own sweet Sofi. The feel of her weight and her warmth in my arms was like a benison to my ragged soul.

"She's got a gun!" Remy's shout rang out resoundingly in the night. I felt like I had plunged into icy water. Joe was still inside. Frantically shoving Sofi at Tank, I kissed the top of her head fervently then said, "Don't you let go of her, Tank. No matter what. Don't you let go!"

"I won't," he promised and moved to carry my most precious Sofi back to safety, back beyond the perimeter.

I racked the Sig and moved resolutely forward toward the door of the apartment building. Just as I approached, Joe dove through the doors and rolled quickly out of the line of sight. I raised my arm, the Sig a perfect extension of my own hand, thick and responsive in my palm. Terry skidded through the door, then came to a screeching halt as she saw the barrel of the gun centered with perfect calm dead in the middle of her forehead. Her own arm raised, and a small revolver glinted menacingly in the artificial light.

"I've got eighteen shots with your name on them, Terry," I bit out.

She laughed grimly. "If I can't kill you with six shots, I deserve to die," she spat.

I inclined my head incrementally. "I'll make sure they inscribe that on your tombstone."

"She should have been MINE!" Terry screamed. "Joe belonged to ME, and his baby should have been MINE! Not yours! Never yours!"

I shook my head sadly at her. Really, she was pitiful. So full of hate and anger that she really had no concept of love. Suddenly, my burning hatred mutated into something else. Pity. I could only pity Terry. I didn't want her anywhere near my family, but she truly had lost the only things she had ever cared about. She had nothing. And while I might never have the might and money of the Grizollis, I had something far more precious. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, Terry would never have Joe, would never know what it was like to wake up next to him in the mornings, and talk with him late into the night. She'd never see his face light up when she bore his children.

Suddenly, Joe materialized behind me. His arm wrapped around me and he spoke quietly into my ear. "Put the gun down, Cupcake. It's going to be okay. You don't need to do this." As he was speaking, I looked up into his face. He looked directly at Terry, then his hand deliberately, tauntingly, slid down my still-flat belly to rest reassuringly on the small bump where our son lay sleeping. Numbly, I nodded my head and started to lower the gun.

Everything spun out of control at that moment. I heard a primal scream from Terry, followed by a veritable rain of gunfire. Joe had spun me around at the last possible second, exposing his back to Terry's wrath, and her bullets. I felt the double impact and heard Joe groan as his weight collapsed against me. Stricken, I held onto him for all I was worth, refusing to let him go even as the EMT's descended, as if I could will him to stay alive.

"Joe!" I screamed his name, over and over. There was no tell-tale reassuring rise and fall of his chest, and his eyes were open and glassy as he lay on the pavement. "Joe, please!" I begged. I couldn't lose him now. Not after we'd just found each other. I couldn't face the possibility of a life that didn't have Joe Morelli in it. "Joe!"

"M'okay." I hadn't imagined it. His eyes blinked. "I'm okay, Cupcake. Son of a bitch, that hurts like hell! Shit!" His breath had been knocked out of him, but he waved off the EMTs. I helped him sit up, and he peeled off his sweater, exposing a badly tattered bullet proof vest. Impatiently pulling at the Velcro tabs, he shook off the vest and turned it around to see the damage done to the back. "Shit that hurts." He tried in vain to look over his shoulder and examine his back.

I quickly lifted his t-shirt and saw what he was looking for: two ugly contusions were rapidly forming where the force of the impact had broken blood vessels and bruised muscle. Miraculously, the lead lumps were still embedded well within the confines of the Kevlar vest that now rested in Joe's lap. "You've got a couple of good bruises back here," I told him, relief making my hands less than steady as I lowered the hem of his shirt.

Joe nodded tiredly, then stumbled to his feet. "Never did trust that bitch. Now where's Sofi?" His eyes began flickering over the personnel milling all over the crime scene. I caught a quick glimpse of Terry Gilman's mutilated corpse before she was mercifully covered with a sheet from the EMT's. Brian Gaspick arrived panting and out of breath.

"You son of a bitch! Do you have any idea how much we had invested in her as an informant? We needed her alive!" He was practically foaming at the mouth, he was so enraged.

"Suicide by cop, you see it all the time," replied Joe laconically.

"Bullshit! I saw what you did! You deliberately provoked her!"

Remy sauntered up, cool as anything. "You're overwrought Detective Gaspick. It's understandable. Nobody likes being on a scene like this. I saw Detective Morelli go to his wife and ask her to lower her weapon, which she did. At that point, Ms. Gilman fired at Detective Morelli, and strategically placed law enforcement personnel returned fire. It was an unfortunate incident, but completely unavoidable, as my report will state." Remy locked eyes with Gaspick, and Gaspick looked away first. He stormed off in the other direction, still muttering under his breath.

"You did provoke her, though, Joe." I said solemnly. "You knew it would send her over the edge when you touched my belly like that."

"Yeah, I knew. And I knew what would happen next. Mostly I knew my pregnant wife didn't need the stress of a manslaughter trial. I knew she would fire, and I knew they would take her down."

Joe stopped and looked straight at me. "I have no regrets, Stephanie. She was a danger to our family, and I will do whatever I have to do to keep my family safe."

I nodded in understanding, then slipped my hand into Joe's as we went to collect our chocolate smeared daughter from Uncle Tank's indulgent embrace.

Epilogue:

Several weeks later:

The hammering and banging had mercifully ended twenty minutes before the Superbowl was due to start. Ranger showed me and Joe the workings on the keypad of the new security system he'd just installed as a late Christmas present for Sofi.

"Do NOT shoot the keypad. And probably you don't want to use the nanny cam after she's a teenager," he ventured.

Chuckling at the thought of an outraged teenage Sofi, I concurred.

"Thank you," said Joe, and stuck out his hand to shake Ranger's.

"No problem."

I slid around them, and went into the kitchen to help Lula. We hadn't done anything as mundane as cook, but the assortment of chips were in bowls instead of bags, and a huge pile of Pino's meatball subs filled the largest serving platter I'd been able to borrow. I quickly snagged an apple and an orange from the dining room table as I made my way back into the livingroom.

I quickly tossed the apple and orange at Ranger. "Thank you, God, for something without nitrites," he muttered.

I shot him a fishy look, and Joe told him, "You don't know what you're missing, man!"

"I'll pass," deadpanned Ranger, as he settled himself more comfortably in the easy chair and bit into his apple.

Joe shuffled quickly through the pile of papers on the coffee table to make room for the now-teetering tower of sandwiches. Glancing through the miscellaneous catalogs and offers, he picked up a cream colored envelope. Waving it in front of my face, he asked, "Who the hell are Tallulah and Sherman, and why do we have a wedding invitation from them?"

It suddenly got very quiet on the sofa, and I heard a softly muttered "Holy shit," come from Ranger's direction. I turned and looked directly at Lula and Tank for the first time. Lula had her head down, looking uncharacteristically shy, and Tank was practically bursting with pride while ostentatiously playing with a completely enamored Sofi.

"Well, it seemed like a good idea to get married before the baby comes," Lula said quietly.

Oh, my God. I think I probably even said it out loud. We had always thought that Ramirez had made it impossible for Lula to get pregnant. Obviously, Tank hadn't let that slow him down much.

"Oh, my God." This time I knew I said it out loud for sure. "I'm so happy for you guys!" I tried to hug them both at the same time, but that was a pretty mean feat considering the size of the two of them.

Ranger and Joe added their heartfelt congratulations just as Remy and Connie arrived. Of course, they had to be brought up to speed, and good wishes extended yet again.

Finally, the game was getting ready to start and we all settled deeply into the cushions to watch. Ranger looked over at Joe and I, curled up in the loveseat and spoke. "You two still planning that cruise next month for your honeymoon?"

"Yeah," answered Joe easily. "We fly down to Miami in two weeks."

Ranger nodded thoughtfully. "I'm heading down there later in the week to stay for a couple weeks. Why don't you let Julie and I take you out to dinner when you get in?"

"That would be great," I enthused. "I'd love to see Julie again." I really hoped this meant what I thought it did. It would be good for Julie and Ranger to finally be able to build the relationship they had always lacked.

"You gonna make me eat tofu?" Joe made a pained face.

"Hell, yes, I'm going to make you eat tofu. You have any idea what that crap they're going to feed you on that ship will do to your arteries? I'm probably saving your life!" Ranger ribbed Joe.

"Yeah, but what about quality of life?" Joe responded.

I shook my head and tuned them out. Once they got started, neither one would ever quit, and I didn't want to miss the big game.