Chapter 1

I want to thank Fakesmileanddeadeyes for being a wonderful Beta. Thanks, Babe appreciate you.

Ranger POV

Dios, I am so glad to be going home. I want nothing more than to hold my woman in my arms, tell her that I love her and let her see the love in my eyes.

I finished my final mission. I wasn't supposed to make it. The probability of me coming home was five percent. But I beat the odds. Why? Because of my Babe. Because of my woman.

She kept me focused. She kept me grounded. I plan on making a move on her. Cop or no cop. He isn't good for her. He doesn't love her as much as I love her. He cheats on her and degrades her. My men tell me she only is with him because I haven't made my move. If that's the case, she should be with me by the end of today. I plan on making my move today. I'm tired of waiting. It's time for our Someday. I can make her happy and give her everything she could possibly hope for and dream of.

Honestly, I don't know what is worse, the debriefing in D.C. or the mission. My handler threw so much money at me to resign until it was unbelievable. I turned it all day. I have more money now than I know what to do with.

I told my handler I would consider training the next Rangers for the mission if the money was right. He is going to get back to me and let me know. He wants me to run missions, not train others for them. Well, too bad, I'm done with that. I'm going to make my Babe mine once and for all.

Tank picked me up at the airport, as per our standing orders. We don't leave our vehicles unattended in parking lots for more than a few hours, and never at places like airports or train stations—too many opportunities for something to happen. While plenty of my vehicles have been destroyed, most of the time, it's because of my Babe's horrific car karma.

Tank was idling in the pickup lane near the private airfield I preferred to use when flying. I tossed my duffel in the backseat and slid into the passenger seat. Usually, when I'm in a vehicle, I'm driving, but I'm often too exhausted after missions.

"Sit rep," I said.

Tank glanced over. "Good to see you too."

I narrowed my eyes and tightened my jaw.

He smirked. "Copasetic. Sales are up, and incidents are down. Two in sick bay —Manny has the flu, and Zero broke his arm."

"How did that happen?"

"Bad takedown with Steph," he said and, at my sharp look, quickly added, "No other casualties. Not her fault either."

"How is she otherwise?"

"She's good. She started training at a women-only gym near her apartment. Looks toned and fit, training in kickboxing. Wears her hardware."

"Cop?" I asked.

"On," he replied succinctly.

Fuck. Whatever. I'll still make a move on her.

After a couple of minutes elapsed in silence, the quiet was broken by the sound of Tank's phone. Was his ringtone Sexy Back?

I quirked an eyebrow in question, and he grumbled. "Fucking Santos. Changed my ringtone, and I don't know how to change it back." He answered the phone with his customary "Yo" and went silent as he listened. Then suddenly, I heard a "Fuck!" and he changed lanes and sped up.

"Report!"

"Steph's been in a car accident. The control room heard the 9-1-1 call go out and informed Brown, who was on his way to St. Francis. That was Zip, who heard the call."

Tank sped through downtown headed to St. Francis. God, please let her make it. Please. I can't lose her. Please. I knew it must have been bad for Zip to call. He would have called anyway, but still, it was really bad for him to be so upset.

Dios, be with my Babe.