food is spotty. I own a fry pan and a pot. Perfectly adequate since I mostly eat peanut butter sandwiches. Peanut butter and banana, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and potato chips, peanut butter and olives, and peanut butter and marshmallow goo. So sue me, I like peanut butter. The rest of the apartment consists of dining alcove, living room with television, one bedroom, and bath.
I hustled from my car to my apartment, stripped, and jumped into the shower. I was approaching boiled lobster skin tone when I finally emerged and wrapped myself in a towel. I stepped out of the bathroom and spotted Ranger lounging in the club chair across from my bed. I gave a startled yelp and jumped back into the bathroom.
“Babe,” Ranger said.
I stuck my head out and looked at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“You could have called. Or how about ringing my doorbell?”
Ranger looked like he was thinking about smiling. His attention focused on the top of my towel and slowly moved to the bottom hem that hung a half-inch below my doodah. His brown eyes dilated black, and I took a stronger grip on my towel.
Ranger was the second biggest complication in my life, and now that Morelli was out of the picture, I supposed Ranger was elevated to numero uno. He’s close to six foot, one way or the other, is Latino, with medium brown skin and dark brown hair cut short. His teeth are white and even, and he has a killer smile that is seen only on special occasions. He dresses in black, and today he was wearing a black T-shirt and black cargo pants. His given name is Carlos Manoso. His street name, Ranger, is a holdover from time spent in Special Forces. These days, he does the occasional high-risk bond enforcement job, and is the managing partner of a security firm located in a stealth building in center city. I’ve seen him naked, and you can take it to the bank when I tell you he’s all hard muscle and perfect in every possible way. And I mean every possible way.
Ranger and I have three things in common. We’re the same age. We’re both single. And we both were previously married for about ten seconds. That’s where the common ground ends. I’m an open book with a lot of blank pages. His book is filled with life experience but written in disappearing ink. I have three locks on my front door, plus a sliding bolt, and I was sure they were all in place. Somehow, this never stops Ranger. He’s a man of mysterious talents.
Ranger crooked his finger at me. “Come here.”
“No way.”
“Afraid?”
“Cautious.”
“That’s no fun,” Ranger said.
“I didn’t know you were interested in fun.”
There was a very slight curve to the corners of his mouth. “I have my moments.”
I had a big, cuddly pink robe in my closet, but I had to cross in front of Ranger to get to it. I wasn’t worried Ranger would jump me. My fear was that if I got too close, I’d get sucked into his force field, and I’d jump him. And jumping Ranger was a dangerous deal. He’d made it clear that his emotional involvement would always have limitations. Plus, there was Morelli. Morelli was currently out of the picture, but he’d been out before, and he’d always slid back in. Getting naked with Ranger would make a reconciliation with Morelli much more difficult. Of course, that wasn’t currently an issue, because I wasn’t in a mood to reconcile anything.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked him.
“Three of my clients have been robbed in the last two months. All three had state-of-the-art security systems. And in all three cases the systems were shut down for exactly fifteen minutes and then reactivated. My clients weren’t home at the time. There was no sign of physical tampering.”
“I see them using gizmos in the movies that can figure out codes.”
“This isn’t a movie. This is real life.”
“Someone hacked into your system?”
“No.”
“That leaves an unpleasant possibility,” I said to Ranger.
“In theory, there are only a few people in my organization who have access to the codes, and I can’t imagine any of those men being involved in this. For that matter, everyone I employ is rigorously screened. Plus, the entire building, with the exception of private living spaces, is monitored twenty-four hours.”
“Have you changed the codes?”
“I changed them after each break-in.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” Ranger said. “Someone on the inside is beating my system.”
“Why are you telling this to me?”
“I need you to come in and snoop around without raising suspicion. I can’t trust anyone already inside.”
“Even Tank?”
“Even Tank.”
Tank is exactly what his name would imply. He’s big and solid inside and out. He’s second in command at Rangeman, and he’s the guy who watches Ranger’s back.
“You’ve worked for me before doing computer searches, and that’s where I’d like to put you again. Ramon has been doing the searches, but he’d like to get out of the cubby and back on the street. You’d be working on the fifth floor in the control room, but you’d have total access within the building. Every man in my organization knows you and understands that you’re my personal property, so they’re not going to talk freely when you’re around, but they’re also not going to think I hired you to snoop. They’ll assume I gave you the job to have you close to me.”
“Personal property?”
“Babe, you’re the only one who would question it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I am not personal property. A car is personal property. A shirt is personal property. A human being is not personal property.”
“In my building, we share cars and shirts. We don’t share women. In my building, you’re my personal property. Deal with it.”
At a later time, when I was alone and had given it some thought, I’d probably find the flaw in that reasoning, but oddly enough it made sense at the moment.
“What about my cases at the bonds office?” I asked him.
“I’ll help you.”
This was a really good deal, because I was a crappy bounty hunter and Ranger was the best. Not to mention I’d be drawing salary from Rangeman. All I had to do was keep my hands off Ranger and everything would be peachy.
“Okay,” I said. “When do you want me to start?”
“Now. Do you have uniforms left from the last time you worked for me?”
“I have a couple T-shirts, and I have some black jeans.”
“Good enough. I’ll have Ella order some more.”
Ella and her husband, Louis, serve as live-in property managers for Rangeman. They keep the building clean and running efficiently, and they keep the men fed and clothed. They’re both in their early fifties, and Ella is dark- haired, and dark-eyed, and pretty in a no-nonsense kind of way.
“I assume you still have your key fob?” Ranger asked.
“Yep.”
The key fob got me into the high-security Rangeman building, and it also got me into Ranger’s private seventh- floor apartment. In the past, I’d used the apartment when I felt I was in danger. It wasn’t a move I made lightly, because I had to weigh the danger at hand against the danger of living with Ranger.
Ranger’s cell phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen. “I have to go,” he said. “Tank and Ramon are expecting you. Ramon will bring you up to speed and then you should be able to take over. You know the drill.” His eyes moved from my face to the towel and then back to my face. “Tempting,” he said. And he left.
