I rolled my head to stare at the digital readout on my clock. Two thirty four in the morning. I sighed and rolled to the window. Something was seriously wrong with me. It had only been two days since Abruzzi's "suicide". Why was I having dreams about Ranger being in love with me? What was wrong with me?

It was only then that I felt the tingly sensation what had woken me. I wasn't alone in my room. I reached under my pillow and pulled out my gun, surprising myself more then I'd known. I have no idea what made me grab my gun before I went to sleep.

"Nice, Babe," Ranger growled. My heart fluttered.

I cocked the gun. "What do you want?"

"Hey," he said, holding up his hands. "I just want to talk."

"At two thirty in the morning?"

"We could be doing other things," Ranger commented. Even in the dark, I could see the passion on his face. He waited a beat, and then said, "Bad dream?"

For a split second I wondered if he could read my mind, then shook it off. "Sort of," I said. "What'd you want to talk about?"

I uncocked my gun and set it on the bed stand. I could feel Ranger staring at me in the dark. He moved from the rocking chair, and sat on the bed. "We have some things we need to air out," he said. I sat up straighter, and crossed my legs at the ankles.

"What, exactly, do we need to talk about at two thirty?" I demanded, trying to control my beating heart.

Ranger leaned over and dropped a kiss on my lips. "You could kill a man if you wanted to, Babe," he whispered, pushing me down in the bed. I started shaking, my heart racing a mile a minute. "I have no idea what to do with you."

"I could think of a few things," I replied, welcoming his arms around me. What the hell was going on? I thought, just before losing myself in Ranger.