My father stared at us all for a moment, looking like he might be contemplating the advantages of a six-month tour on an aircraft carrier, and then he returned his attention to the TV.

“I can't stay,” I said to my mother. “I just stopped in so you could see everything was okay.”

“Okay?” my mother shouted. “You go out in the middle of the night, chasing criminals! How

could that possibly be okay? And look at you! What happened to your pants? Your pants have a big hole in them!”

“I tripped.”

My mother pressed her lips together. “So do you want pudding, or not?”

“Of course I want pudding.”

I opened my eyes to a perfectly black room, and the skin-crawling feeling that I wasn't alone. I had no basis in fact for the feeling. I'd been dragged from sleep by some deep intuition. Possibly the intuition had been triggered by the rustle of clothing or a sweep of air. My heart knocked against my ribs as I waited for movement, for the scent of another person's sweat, for a sign that my fears were true.

I scanned the room but found only familiar shapes. The digital readout on my clock said five-thirty. My eyes cut to my dresser at the sound of a drawer slamming shut, and finally I picked out the intruder.

A pair of sweats sailed through the air and hit me in the head.

“If we're going to work together, you've got to get into shape,” the intruder said.

“Ranger?”

“I made you some tea. It's on your nightstand.”

I switched the light on. Sure enough, there was a cup of tea steaming on my nightstand. So much for the illusion of Stephanie Plum, keen-sensed bounty hunter.

“I hate tea,” I said, sniffing at the noxious brew. I took a sip. YUK! “What is this?”

“Ginseng.”

“It's weird. It tastes awful.”

“Good for your circulation,” Ranger said. “Helps oxygenate.”

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” Ordinarily I'd be curious as to the mode of entry. With Ranger it was a pointless question. Ranger had ways.

“I'm trying to get you out of bed,” Ranger said. “It's late.”

“It's five-thirty!”

“I'll be in the living room warming up.”

I watched his back disappear through the bedroom door. Was he serious? Warm up for what? I pulled the sweats on and padded out to him. He was doing one-armed push-ups.

“We'll start out with fifty,” he said.

I got down on the floor and made an attempt at a push-up. After about five minutes Ranger was finished, and I'd almost done one.

“Okay,” Ranger said, jogging in place. “Let's hit the streets.”

“I want breakfast.”

“We'll do a fast five-mile run, and then we'll come back for breakfast.”

A five-mile run? Was he nuts? It was five-thirty in the morning. It was dark out. It was cold. I peeked out the window. It was fucking snowing!

“Great,” I said. “Piece of cake.”

Tags: Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net