Janet Evanovich 1. Pilot

****Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of these characters, except Sofia and Ricky. ****

****Note: Hello, the following pilot is a sequel to "The Link Between Us." I was tempted to write a story for Lester and Sofia. I'm not sure if this is going to workout as well as the original, but let's try it. Let me know if I should continue.****

****Also, this chapter is not edited (might need a beta). If you're interested, the "The Link Between Us" can be found here: s/6276479/1/The-Link-Between-Us****

**Pilot**

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle l'a tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose." I often sing in the shower when I need to think, and lately I have been doing a lot of singing. My friend, the Bombshell Bounty Hunter, disapproved of my intentions.

Let us backtrack here for a second. Six months ago, my friend Stephanie Plum and I came to Trenton with the intention of uncovering a sex trafficking ring and recovering a girl, Leticia Movio. Stephanie and I met by chance four years earlier. It was during a retrieval stint that went terribly wrong. She was shot, and she was pregnant. Long story short, she had a baby boy. This boy turned out to be the son of Ricardo Carlos Manoso's aka Ranger. Ranger didn't know anything about Ricky for almost four years.

How and why my friend kept this child a secret from his father? All I know is that sometimes fear makes us do the stupidest things. It paralyzes us and makes us act recklessly.

Regardless, Steph, Ranger, and Carlitos were now on the track of emotional recovery, slowly becoming a family and learning to forgive.

Me? I'm running away.

"Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m' fait quelque chose." I sighed, the lyrics of the song continuing to play in my head. The cold water was hitting my bare skin, leaving the area around my shoulders red as it dripped down my body. I didn't like that the bathroom also smelled of him, like Lester Santos.

It took me a few seconds to register the movement in the room. The years of training had sharpened my ability to notice slight changes around me. My intruder shoved open the shower curtain a second later, and I had my arm around his neck soon afterward.

"Angel," Lester choked.

"Why would you come in the bathroom like that? "

"I heard you singing, and I wanted to join you." I thought over the words for a few seconds, becoming conscious of my nakedness against his unclothed skin. I pushed him off and used the shower curtain as cover.

He was naked and delicious, and I wanted him far away from me.

There was a physical attraction between us, and there was the potential of something else. We both felt it, and it didn't matter how much I pushed away that thought. It kept coming back. Lester was charming, funny, and kind…

"Thank you," I said holding tight to the curtain, "that's very thoughtful."

He smirked, leaning slowly towards me as if not to scare me off. The kiss he planted on my lips was sweet and light.

"I'm going with you," he said.

"Where?"

"New York," he responded. "If it's okay with you. I would like to give us a chance."

"Lester, how well have you thought about this? You barely know me."

The doorbell rang. He looked over his shoulders and pecked my lips again before leaving to answer the door, another stolen kiss. I locked the door after him, and I pressed my forehead against the cold bathroom tiles, dreading letting our relationship come to this point.

Lester didn't know about my past or about the pains I carried deep. He didn't know that loving me would destroy him. He didn't know that love, like some dreams, are only for those that are whole.

**Honestly, should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 1 Let's Dance (Part I)

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of these characters, except Sofia and Ricky.**

**Note: Hello, the following pilot is a sequel to "The Link Between Us." I was tempted to write a story for Lester and Sofia. I'm not sure if this is going to workout as well as the original, but let's try it. Thanks to Susan aka Whitmom for the wonderful insight and for editing this chapter. Here's the o****fficial First chapter... I hope you guys enjoy it.**

**Chap 1. Let's Dance (Part I)**

**Lester's POV**

"How did you get hurt?" My mother asked at seeing me for the first time; her smile fading. Somebody told her about the knife wound I suffered during our latest job. It was my first time seeing my mother in weeks. She came to RangeMan for the celebration of Steph's return and Ricky's birthday. Stephanie had returned from the hospital after surviving our latest stint. The job left her temporarily in a wheelchair and left a group of unidentified teenage girls with traumas to last a lifetime.

It was also a day for new beginnings for Ranger, Stephanie, and Ricky. Ricky was Ranger and Stephanie's son, and he shared his birthday with his father. Steph's mom had spent weeks planning the whole thing. I helped a little, taking time from my recovery to assist with decorations and to teach Ms. Plum about comic books. In the end, we opted for a Justice League Unlimited themed party for Ricky. It combined both of the things he liked the most, space and Batman. However, she put in most of the work. She invited plenty of people, including Ranger's family and friends. My mother was also invited, her bright eyes and smile lighting the party.

"It was an accident," I mumbled. "I'm doing better though."

"My baby," she said, and she pinched my cheeks to my embarrassment. I could feel the blood rush to my face. "I always pray for you. You always have these 'accidents.' How many accidents can you possibly have?"

"How are you ma?" I asked, noticing how I adopted hints of her Irish accent as we spoke.

"I'm so happy to see you. Do you know how worried I get? It must be God's way of punishing me my sins, to give me children that make me worry. Why didn't you call?" A pause. "Lester?"

I had stopped listening, looking past my mother to Sofia as she marched into the room, her eyes scanning the setting. She hesitated a little at the doorway, registering the number of people going in and out. She was dressed in a navy blue dress. The color enhanced the tone of her skin and brought out the Middle Eastern features of her face. She ran her fingers through her dark hair, which wore down, the ends curling slightly. I knew instantly that her hair would feel soft to the touch. She looked delicate, but I knew she was a dangerous woman.

We had spent a long time working together during the past two months, and had even gone out on dates. She was smart, creative and lethal.

My mother poked my chest, hard. She had a mean finger for such a tiny woman. I found her bright eyes on me, an unasked question in the air. I caressed the spot she poked, giving her a little pout.

"That hurts ma." She rolled her eyes.

"Who is she?"

"A friend," I said, attempting to keep any emotion from my voice.

"Do you know the government is not the only one with spies?" She said. "I have Ella."

"I need to talk to Ella. What did I do to her?"

"She knows I worry," she replied defensively. "Don't go about giving her trouble, she's a nice woman, and she deserves a raise. We worry about you."

Ella had become friends with Ranger's mother during the whole deal that brought us all here tonight. She was feeding information about Ranger and Stephanie to our respective mothers as form of revenge. The whole situation had amused me until now. Apparently, Ella was feeding information about myself too. And since Sofia was staying temporarily in my apartment… Ella and my mother would think we were in a relationship. I didn't know what we were yet, and it was too early to tell, but I knew… know that she's important to me.

"I'll introduce you," I found myself saying, shocking my mother and myself. We both stared at each other for a few seconds, taking in my words.

I never introduced my mother to anyone, not officially. It was a rule I made when I started dating, to never introduce her to anyone I didn't see myself spending my life with. The promise was easy to keep since I had joined the army at an early age. It soon became my life and career, with little room for anything else but flings and short-lived consensual sexual relationships. My mother knew about some of those women I "dated," but never because I introduced them.

Sofia had found Ricky peering down at a baby wrapped in a soft pink blanket. Joe Morelli and his wife, Amy, had recently had a baby.

"What's her name?" Ricky asked, not taking his eyes away from the baby.

"Joy," Morelli said, exchanging a quick glance with his wife. The couple clearly enamored with the small person they created.

"Sofia," I said softly. She looked up at me, and her smile reached her eyes.

"Hi Lester." She straightened, the soft scent of her perfume reaching my senses, honey and lime. "I didn't think there would be so many people."

"Sofia, this is my mother," I said turning to my mother. "Mom, this is Sofia. She's Steph's work colleague and friend. She's also Ricky's godmother."

"Nice to meet you," Sofia said, offering her hand. My mother embraced her instead, kissing both of her cheeks.

"My name is Claire. It's really a pleasure to meet you. I have heard so much about you." Sofia's eyebrows had furrowed before my mother added, "don't worry, all good things. What happened to your arm?"

Sofia glanced at the arm with a sigh. "It was a small accident, but it should be getting better soon. The doctor just casted it to keep me out of work and to make me rest."

"Sounds like a cruel punishment."

"It is." My mother hooked her arm around Sofia's and proceeded to introduce her to everyone with familial blood. I had to save her from a couple of family interrogations,

We sang happy birthday to Ricky. A blue Batman themed cake was placed on the table, surrounded by small cupcakes with Justice League characters' symbols on them. There were blue and black balloons everywhere and a small bouncy house in a corner. The mischievous little guy started crying.

"I'm just so happy," he hiccupped to his parents when they questioned what was wrong.

_-rs-_

**Sofia's POV **

"How are you feeling?" I found Stephanie sitting in a corner and offered her a Wonder Woman cupcake from the wide selection of Justice League treats. I picked one for myself at random from the table next to us.

"I feel better than yesterday," she said, her voice hazy.

"All these people came together for you," I said, trying to uncover her thoughts. "Ranger's family and your family seem to be getting along pretty well. Nobody has died."

"I know," she chuckled. "I'm quite impressed actually." We laughed, pressing our hands to our stomachs, imagining how Ms. Plum convinced RangeMan to assist her and participate in the activities.

"How's your arm?" Steph asked.

"I won't be able to do much for a while," I sighed, lifting my arm and dropping it in frustration.

"Did Lester's cousins give you a hard time?"

She laughed at my groan. I had miraculously agreed to go out on a date with the devil two months ago, when our job started. It all started with gelato. I thought he looked handsome, eyes a bright green and his skin delicious looking. Lester's smile was warm and inviting.

_-rs-_

"How long have you known Stephanie?" he had asked, when I offered one of the cones I bought to share with the group. It was Stephanie's second day back in Trenton after disappearing four years earlier. We were standing outside Mr. and Mrs. Plum's home after introducing Ricky to Lester and Tank. The two men having been sent by Ranger to surveillance the house for any Stephanie related activity.

"Four years, what about you?"

"A while," he said, his eyes fixed on mine. The way he stared at me made me uncomfortable. "Where are you from?"

I knew instantly that he was referring to my ancestral background. "I'm half Lebanese and my father's parents are Puerto Rican, which is another word for 'unknown mix.'" I had said, my cheeks heating up a bit. "How about you?"

"My mother's Irish and my father's Cuban, another word for 'unknown mix."

"Yes, racial ambiguity is the heritage of our Latin American history." I'd babbled on about ancestors and history. The truth is that I was feeling self-conscious, but instead of shutting up I kept talking. You see, when I get self-conscious I become a college professor, lecturing people about random and unrelated topics. He did not say a word the whole time. I swear. I was sure he thought I was crazy, or close to crazy.

"I'm rambling." I had admitted self-consciously, not trying to hide my embarrassment.

"I agree," he said, and the heat on my cheeks intensified. "It would be great if we could trace the life of our ancestors, but we can also celebrate it. Go on a date with me."

He had to ask me on a date three times before I finally said yes.

-rs-

Now I'm paying the consequences of my actions.

"Be aware of Lester's cousins," I warned Stephanie. "They wanted to know what kind of underwear he wears, how many children I would like to have, and if we have a date set for the wedding. And those were the easy questions. You don't want to know the rest, but I guess they are your family now." The girls we spoke about were Ranger's sisters.

"I'll get Celia." We smiled at each other. Ranger's older sister appeared to be a strong woman.

"I'll miss working with you," I confided a moment later. "New York City won't be the same without you." New York was my domain as much as Trenton was Steph's.

"Are you kidding me? The city is probably going to be safer without me." I knew I would miss moments like this one, talking about nothing but talking about everything. She was a true friend, and she had become a sister to me.

In the distance, Lester was dancing with his mother, moving about on the dance floor in complicated moves. The crowd was starting make space for them to dance.

"What does he think about you going to New York?" Steph asked.

"He doesn't know," I confessed, concern drowning my chuckle. "I don't know how to tell him."

"Sofia." Steph's voice started to betray her worry. "New York is not that far from here. And you have family in Newark! You'll manage."

"Well, that's not the problem." I stared straight-ahead, watching him dance with his mother. Claire was sweet, very different from me. Getting to know Lester's family only proved that I'm not the one for him. I looked next to me and found Stephanie staring knowingly my way.

"You're scared," she accused. "This is you, panicking."

"No, I'm not." I muffled my words with one last bite of cupcake.

"Sofia!"

"I'm not panicking. Does it look like I'm panicking?" I held up my hands to show her that I wasn't shaking and not panicking. She rolled my eyes. "Lester's a nice guy; his antics could be even adorable and he's sweet."

"But? What's the petty excuse this time?"

"I should go to bed," I said, avoiding her eyes. "I need to return to the house tomorrow and pick up my stuff."

"You are leaving tomorrow?" Stephanie put a hand to her temple, rubbing at it as if to ease the pain.

"He makes me feel…" I took a deep breath before continuing. "Vulnerable."

"Like he's the chink in your armor," Steph whispered with a big grin on her face this time. It was a line from one of the sappy romance novels I'd taken to reading at the beginning of the summer. I couldn't hide my annoyance.

"Yes, a bit like that," I admitted, my tone serious, "but not like that at all."

Lester came running up to us at that moment and leaned in to kiss me. The first time we had kissed I was caught off guard by his presence. He had found me sorting through profiles in one of the conference rooms on the third floor at three in the morning. The idiot had brought me a cup of warm milk with honey and kept me company until the wake of dawn.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked. I hesitated a little and glanced at Stephanie seeking support.

"Tell him," she urged.

"Tell me what?" Lester looked between us expectantly.

"Can we go upstairs?" He nodded his head. I gave Stephanie a quick hug. I accepted Lester's hand, and he followed me out of the room without asking questions.

I thought I could see Lester's mother smiling in amusement and delight on our way out.

**Thanks for reading! Please let me what you think by leaving a comment. **


	3. Chapter 2 Let's Dance (Part II)

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of these characters, except Sofia and Ricky.**

**Note: Thanks to Susan aka Whitmom for the wonderful insight and for editing this chapter. **** I hope you guys enjoy it.**

**Chapter 2. Let's Dance (Part II)**

We took the stairs to his room and locked the apartment door behind us. Lester's apartment was warm and welcoming, decorated in tones of blues and greens that reminded me of the forest and the sky. In the morning, sunlight streamed in through to his living room. Tonight, the moon bathed the room with its light.

I watched him turn on the living room light, a lantern type of lamp that seemed to work well with the room. He wore dark blue jeans with a red bottom up shirt that brought out the green of his eyes.

"It's time we decide the fate of your relationship," I said, forcing the words out.

"I heard that line before somewhere," he said, "maybe a book."

I tilted my head to the side in response to his statement. I remembered the Nelson Mandela's _Long Work to Freedom_ book I found hiding under his bed during my first night at this apartment. He also had a few philosophy books hiding in his closet, such as the _Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations_. I grinned. He had given me his bed while he took over the sofa.

Lester grabbed two wine glasses from the kitchen and filled them with red wine. "Thank you," I said when he gave me a glass. I sat to look out at the skyline.

"I think I should go back home," I blurted. He was turning on the radio, but he stilled at my words.

"New York City?" He asked.

"Yes," I said.

"You won't be too far," he mused, sitting next to me. Our proximity should have made me uncomfortable in the current circumstances. "I like you, Angel."

"And I'm not ready for this," I answered.

"Who's going to keep me in line, eh?" He scooted closer to me, snaking an arm around my waist.

"Lester." I paused because I didn't know what to say that didn't sound cliché or cheesy. The reality is that I'm not sure how these things are done in real life. My only points of reference are the historical romances I read on occasions.

"I'm sorry," I said because that was the most appropriate thing to say that came to my mind. "I misled you."

"You didn't answer my question," he said instead.

"About keeping you in line? Don't tell me you don't have any self-restraint." I said without thinking.

"You said that you're not ready, but you didn't say you don't like me." He put our glasses on the floor and took my hands in his, turning them over, tracing the lines of my palm with his thumb. "Sofia, we can't give up before we start." I couldn't argue with him with that one, but…

"It's decided." The sparks in Lester's eyes seemed to go opaque. He took a long sip of his wine, and we sat there, listening to slow jams on the radio and staring at nothing in specific.

"I do believe you owe me a dance," he said suddenly a moment later. I arched an eyebrow; now remembering he had asked me to dance with him at the celebration. He sorted through the songs on his IPod before connecting it. A slow but familiar melody extinguished the silence in the room.

He offered me his hand. I hesitated but accepted it anyway, slowly sliding into his embrace. My casted arm on his shoulder and his hand on my waist, we allowed the dance do the talking for us. The song by Juan Luis Guerra, telling the story of love that was lost and found in a small city in Japan. I almost laughed.

I smiled self-consciously, memories of happier times and joyful dreams coming to the foresight of my mind. We danced slowly, our steps becoming more sensual and eager with which step. I suddenly worried that I had drank too much alcohol, but that wasn't true. I had full function of my body and awareness of how close our bodies were pressed. I could feel his muscle under my hand on his shoulder, his breath on my neck and my breasts pushing against him.

I was floating on a cloud. My body relaxed, and I gave in to my impulses. The song changed to yet another slow Caribbean tune by the same artist. I felt at home in his arms, letting my head drop to his shoulder. I could feel the rhythm of his breathing under my palms. I felt him exhale and pushed my head up to look into his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" I asked shyly, because I was dying to kiss him, even it was the last time.

He kissed me. I kissed him. It was the type of romance that was felt, not necessarily lived. Men had gone out of their way to do romantic gestures for me in the past, but it never meant anything. Could this be…? I found myself kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt to uncover his skin with my one hand. He laughed.

"Let me help you." The shirt was on the floor within seconds, followed by the rest of his clothes. My dress joined the pile ten seconds later.

"Stay with me," he pleaded.

"I can't," I replied. There was hurt in his eyes when I looked at him, our eyes locking. We stared at each other, registering the position of our bodies on the soft rug.

"We should stop." I wiggled out of his hold, grabbing my dress and sliding it on. We sat together in silence, and I bumped my shoulder against his in an attempt to get him to talk to me.

"It would be unwise," I insisted, trying to reason with him. He stood and grabbed his phone, scrolling quickly through in information on the screen. He didn't look happy.

"It looks like Tank needs some help," he said.

"Maybe you should see what he needs," I answered, because I didn't want to make it worse for him. I had gotten drunk in the moment, forgetting the reason we could not be together.

Once he was gone, I used the time to scold myself. What was I thinking? I never let my hormones drive my actions, never. I laid back and stared at the ceiling hoping it would give me the answers I need. Here I was, telling this man that I didn't want a relationship with him, and then I sort of assault him? I blushed. God darn it! What is wrong with me? How is that supposed to help my case?

I took a long shower, and then slumped on the sofa with my guitar on my lap. The music on the radio was not enough to process my feelings. The task of playing the guitar alone distracted me from thinking about how much I… I lusted over him. It also helped process these feelings. The world seemed to dissolve with every stroke of the strings, telling my story to the beat of the music. I played until I felt sleepy, discarding the guitar to the side before falling asleep.

_-rs-_

The screaming woke me up. I looked around, startled. The room around me had changed. It quickly became clear to me that I was in Lester's room, and he was lying next to me. The idiot must have carried me to bed sometime during the night, and I was too sleepy or drunk to notice. I watched him sleep, struggling in his sleep, mumbling incoherent words.

"Shit," I spat, understanding what was happening. I tried not to touch him and alarm him. I couldn't gauge the seriousness of his nightmare. Where had Lester's nightmares taken him? He gripped the pillow, the veins on his hands and muscles standing up in relief. I was sure he was about to rip the thing in two.

I knelt on the bed, careful not to startle him. He was in a dream, reliving a moment in which he might have had to defend himself. I rested my good hand on his shoulder, slowly getting closer.

"Lester," I called out gently, attempting to bring him back to the present. All the books on PTSD I had read mentioned how stimulating one of the six senses could help patients ground themselves to the present. "Lester, don't make me throw a shoe at your head."

My mother said those words to my father when he made she angry about something, usually when he worked long hours without resting. I caressed the skin under my hand, leaned forward and kissed one of the scars on his chest, finally biting lightly on his skin. He stilled for a few seconds. The wild look in his eyes should have scared me, but it didn't. I stored that information in the back of my mind. Something to think about later.

"Hey," I said, moving over to straddle him instead.

"Hey," he breathed.

"Would you like some warm milk with honey?" The questioned seemed to confuse him. He stared at me, his eyebrows slowly furrowing. I wiggled a little to remind him that we were not in his nightmare anymore. He groaned.

"Okay," he said, and I was determined to keep it that way. I boiled some milk in the kitchen. My mother had convinced me that microwaved milk just didn't taste the same. I could hear Lester in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. I was curious, but I knew that asking him to relive the experience would only torment him. We didn't know each other long enough for him to trust me with his secrets, and I planned to leave town within a few hours.

_-rs-_

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle l'a tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose." I often sing in the shower when I need to think, and lately I have been doing a lot of singing. My friend, the Bombshell Bounty Hunter, disapproved of my intentions.

Let us backtrack here for a second. Six months ago, my friend Stephanie Plum and I came to Trenton with the intention of uncovering a sex trafficking ring and recovering a girl, Leticia Movio.

Stephanie and I had met by chance four years earlier. It was during a retrieval stint that went terribly wrong. She was shot, and she was pregnant. Long story short, she and I began working together. Months later she had a baby boy. This boy turned out to be the son of Ricardo Carlos Manoso's aka Ranger. Ranger didn't know anything about Ricky for almost four years. Steph had left Trenton before knowing she was pregnant.

How and why my friend kept this child a secret from his father was a mystery to me. All I know is that sometimes fear makes us do the stupidest things. It paralyzes us and makes us act recklessly. Regardless, Steph, Ranger, and Carlitos were now on the track of emotional recovery, slowly becoming a family and learning to forgive.

Me? I'm running away.

"Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m' fait quelque chose." I sighed, the lyrics of the song continuing to play in my head. The cold water was hitting my bare skin, leaving the area around my shoulders red as it dripped down my body. I didn't like that the bathroom also smelled of him, like Lester Santos.

It took me a few seconds to register the movement in the room. The years of training had sharpened my ability to notice slight changes around me. My intruder shoved open the shower curtain a second later, and I had an arm around his neck soon afterward.

"Angel," Lester choked.

"Why would you come in the bathroom like that?"

"I heard you singing, and I wanted to join you." I thought over the words for a few seconds, becoming conscious of my nakedness against his unclothed skin. I pushed him off and used the shower curtain as cover.

He was naked and delicious, and I wanted him far away from me. There was a physical attraction between us, and there was the potential of something else. We both felt it, and it didn't matter how much I pushed away that thought. It kept coming back. Lester was charming, funny, and kind…

"Thank you," I said holding tight to the curtain, "that's very thoughtful."

He smirked, leaning slowly towards me as if not to scare me off. The kiss he planted on my lips was sweet and light.

"I'm going with you," he said.

"Where?"

"New York," he responded. "That is if it's okay with you. I would like to give us a chance."

"Lester, how well have you thought about this? You barely know me."

Just then the doorbell rang. He looked over his shoulders and pecked my lips again before leaving to answer the door, another stolen kiss. I locked the door after him, and I pressed my forehead against the cold bathroom tiles, dreading letting our relationship come to this point.

Lester didn't know about my past or about the pains I carried deep. He didn't know that loving me would destroy him. He didn't know that love, like some dreams, are only for those that are whole.

If anything, the night had strengthened my resolve. Lester was a soldier. He had demons that accompanied with my own demons would only destroy us both.

I never dealt with someone as insistent as Lester. And it didn't doubt that if he wanted to follow me to New York, he would do it. My breath started to quicken, and my throat left dried. I was having a little panic attack.

**Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment to let me know what you guys think. **


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Janet Evanovich, Hurt-Comfort, Romance