gonna do things to you, Stephanie. Things you've never had done to you before. Did you ask Lula about the things the champ can do?'
'What are you doing here?' I shrieked. I had one eye on Perin, afraid he was going to get to his feet and run for his car. And I had one eye on Ramirez, afraid he was going to draw a knife and carve me up like a Christmas turkey.
'You can't get away from the champ,' Ramirez whispered. 'The champ sees everything. He sees when you go out for candy bars late at night. What's the matter, Stephanie, having trouble sleeping? The champ could fix that. He knows how to make women sleep.'
My stomach clenched, and I broke into an instant cold sweat. I never saw him. He'd been lying in wait for me, following my every move, watching me. And I never saw him. Probably the only reason I was alive was because Ramirez loved the cat-and-mouse game. He loved the smell of another person's fear. Loved to torture, to prolong the pain and terror.
There'd been a black hole in the time continuum when Perin had gone airborne. Everyone in the bar, with the exception of me and Ramirez, had sat frozen in dumbfounded shock. Now everyone in the bar was on their feet.
'What the hell?' the bartender yelled, coming at Ramirez.
Ramirez turned his eyes to the bartender, and the bartender backed off.
'Hey, man,' the bartender said. 'You gotta take your problems outside.'
Perin was standing wobble-legged, glaring at Ramirez. 'What are you, nuts? Are you freaking nuts?'
'The champ don't like remarks like that,' Ramirez said, his eyes shrinking in his head.
A big, no-neck guy came to Perin's rescue. 'Hey, leave the little guy alone,' he said to Ramirez.
Ramirez turned on him. 'No one tells the champ what to do.'
Perin pulled his gun and fired one off. The shot went wide of Ramirez, and sent everyone in the bar running for the door. Everyone but Perin and Ramirez and me. The bartender was shouting into the phone for the police to get their asses in gear. And through the open door I caught a glimpse of the flatbed moving down the street with the green Jaguar on board.
'I don't like the police,' Ramirez said to the bartender. 'You shouldn't have called the police.' Ramirez gave me one last look with his nobody's-home eyes and went out the back door.
I hopped off the bar stool. 'Nice meeting you,' I said to Perin. 'I have to go now.'
Ranger strolled in, looked around, shook his head, and smiled at me. 'You never disappoint,' he said.
11
RANGER HAD THE Mercedes double-parked outside Mike's Place. I got in, and we took off before Perin made it through the door to the sidewalk.
Ranger glanced over at me. 'Are you okay?'
'Never been better.'
This brought another appraising look from Ranger.
'Well, maybe I'm a little buzzed,' I said. 'Think I shouldn't have drunk that whole drink.' I leaned closer to Ranger, as he was looking very fine, and I was finding him superior to that rat-fink Morelli.
Ranger downshifted at a light. 'Want to tell me about the gunfire?'
'Perin got one off. It didn't hit anybody, though.' I smiled at him. Ranger wasn't nearly so scary when I was tanked on Bombay.
'Perin was shooting at you?'
'Well, no. There was this other guy who sort of didn't like Perin talking to me. And there was an altercation.' I touched Ranger's diamond stud earring. 'Pretty,' I said.
Ranger grinned. 'How many drinks did you have?'
'One. But it was a big one. And I'm not much of a drinker.'
'Something to remember,' Ranger said.
I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, but I hoped it had to do with sex and taking advantage of me.
He turned into my lot and rolled to a stop at the door. Major disappointment, because it meant he was dropping me off, as opposed to parking and coming in for a nightcap . . . or something.
'You have a visitor,' he said.
'
'That's Morelli's bike.'
I swiveled to look. Sure enough, Morelli's Ducati was parked next to Mr. Feinstein's Cadillac. Damn. I stuck my hand in my shoulder bag and fished around.
'What are you looking for?' Ranger asked.
'My gun.'
