Chapter One

When I was seven, I decided that my deep understanding of structural engineering and physics was enough that I could design a bridge from my wardrobe to my dresser out of nothing but a pillow. As an adult, I've come to recognize that this came from the part of my brain responsible for stupid ideas.

Needless to say, when I tried to test out this marvel of design, it didn't exactly hold my weight. I still have a scar somewhere under my hairline where I'd needed twelve stitches to close up the back of my head.

I'm older now, and I'd like to think I'm wiser. Though, given my current predicament, that might be a little generous. I no longer try to build bridges out of pillows, but I still have a tendency to learn lessons the hard way. In this case, it was the really hard way.

The lesson I was struggling with this time was why I shouldn't slip my Rangeman protective detail, no matter how benign the skip I'm after. And that when you find yourself accidently facing a pissed off drug dealer with a gun the size of a cannon and an ardent desire not to go back to jail, it might help to have some kind of backup.

My name is Stephanie Plum, and until about thirty seconds ago, I worked as a bond enforcement agent for my cousin Vinnie. The bullets that were currently whizzing by my hiding place behind the bathroom door had effectively decided for me that I no longer wanted to be a bounty hunter. Let Vinnie round up the lowlifes and miscreants with the happy trigger fingers. I was done.

I really hate getting shot at. And that cannon he was pointing at my head made my little five shot revolver look like a pea shooter. At least it would have if it wasn't at home in my cookie jar.

Truth is, this wasn't how my day was supposed to go. I'd just planned on picking up Mary Delraya for missing her court date on some minor solicitation charges. We'd done this dance before, and she was always pretty cooperative. Not exactly a task that required back up. And I'd been feeling a little smothered because Tank had me under constant supervision since Ranger was out of town.

I'd recently had some trouble in the fallout of a disastrous trip to Hawaii that involved some fake FBI agents and a crazed mercenary assassin, and Tank was taking my safety very seriously. Everyone at Rangeman was. Because it was better to have a pissed off Stephanie than to answer to Ranger if something happened. Trouble was, it had been a week without a single word. That's a long time to have a shadow the size of a stegosaurus.

I'd just wanted to get a little fresh air, so I'd parked my truck at the mall and removed the GPS. Set it behind the yellow marker at the head of my parking space. I thought I was being pretty clever at the time. Make it look like I was shopping. It would buy me at least an hour before one of the Rangeman guys wandered into the shoe department looking for me.

Little did I know, Mary Delraya would be working when I went to pick her up, and the John that was visiting was none other than Damian Marquez, aka Skeezer. And he'd recognized me from those stupid bus ads Vinnie'd been running to promote the bonds office.

I was really hating Vinnie right about now.

I had never intended take down Skeezer. He was a higher level dealer with a lot of connections, and a reputation for violence. It was the kind of skip I usually left for Ranger. He didn't do a lot of bond enforcement these days, now that he was running a big time security firm like Rangeman, but if I'd asked, he would have rooted Skeezer out of his rat hole and thrown him against the wall for me so that I didn't end up bleeding from my pretty little head.

Another bullet whizzed by my ear. Freaking Ranger. This was all his fault.

My cell phone started ringing and two more shots clipped into the door, ricocheting off the cracked tile behind me. I fished the phone out of my bag, praying Skeezer didn't realize I was unarmed and rip the door open to shoot me between the eyes. I kind of liked not having a hole there.

It was Tank calling. Like this could get any worse.

"Busy," I said into the phone.

"Where are you? Ramon found your GPS unit in a parking lot at the mall."

"It's complicated."

Three more shots went through the wall at the sound of my voice. Tank is a big guy, strong and silent. Doesn't show a lot of emotion. But I swear I could hear him pale.

"Trace her signal and dispatch the nearest car. She's under fire," he said to someone near him. There were some urgent voices on the other line, but the sound that caught my attention was a soft click in the next room. His clip was empty.

I waited for a beat. He could have a second gun or another clip. I held my breath. Metal slid over metal when he recocked the gun. Click. Yep, out of bullets.

I had two choices. I could keep hiding and hope he didn't come in to make sure I was dead, or I could tackle him while he was busy patting down his pockets for more bullets.

I've never been a particularly brave person, but I've been known to do something stupid from time to time. Which is why I found myself barreling toward him with a high pitched war cry. He looked up in surprise a second before I took him down. I shoved my stun gun into his belly and hit the go button, and he seized up and then went still.

I was slapping the cuffs on him behind his back when Hal burst into the room, his face white. He goggled at me. "You alright?"

"Yeah, but I could use some help dragging him downstairs. And I still have to talk Mary Delraya into coming in with me to reschedule her court date."

Hal nodded. Looked like he might be sick.

In all honesty, I couldn't blame him.