Something's Burning
So there I was, alone, standing there, in the shadows, in the dark, dimming light of my parking lot. Actually, I wasn't really alone. He was waiting, in the dark, leaning against the Mercedes. I hesitated. I closed my eyes, pretending he wasn't there, that perhaps it was just my imagination … or just wishful thinking. I peeked one eye open. Yep. He was still there. I felt frozen on the spot under his intense gaze. He looked ominously dark and dangerous leaning against the shiny black car with one leg crossed over the other and his arms folded across his chest, not moving.
Mmm. His broad, hard, muscular chest. Get a hold of yourself Stephanie. How hard can this be?
It's not the first car. Not even the second. Cars have gone to heaven before this one. Hrmmph. Stairway to heaven, car heaven, the big parking lot in the sky.
I smiled momentarily until I remembered why I was here, waiting, holding my breath, my stomach doing cartwheels, trying to decide what my next move should be. Go forward and face the music? Run and hide? He'll probably disown me and send me to some third world country with just a water bottle, a toothpick and the number plate as a reminder.
It was bad enough the Porsche Boxter had only just joined the others in that great big parking lot in the sky, although, I must admit, it was definitely more heavenly. Its demise was probably the most spectacular, what with the bomb and then the rubbish truck flattening it like a char grilled pancake.
"This is temptation … temptation to broaden your horizons," he had said about the Porsche.
So, what was the BMW? I dared not even imagine the possibilities. Oh. My. God. I am so dead.
How was I going to explain this? His new car. For how long did I have it? A couple of days? Less than a day? Really? Some hours? Nah, half a day, mostly the daytime part…
"Wheels, Babe," he'd said only just this morning.
A whole new wave of trepidation surged over me. I started to fidget. I am so going to die. He is going to be so mad at me and all I have to show for my efforts today (sniff) is the number plate and that small piece of scorched dashboard. I hate disappointing him.
Why was there no manual? "How to Stop The Chop 'n Shop of Your Car" or "Beware of Chop Shoppers" or "Chop Shopping Protection 101" or "Chop 'n Shop Safety for Dummies".
I was pretty sure that his shiny black BMW would be safe. Lula even assured me that they'd probably think it was one of the drug dealers'cars,being all shiny and black in a neighbourhood like that. Untouchable. Yeah, right, NOT! They obviously did not get the memo: Ranger's car … Don't Touch. It did not make any difference to them either, probably more of a challenge, if they saw Lula and me walking from the car.
And speaking of Lula, short of not quite pushing me out of the car at the Bonds Office, there was no way she was going to hang around and be my wingman when I explain to Mr Tall Dark and Dangerous how another car mysteriously vanished off the face of the Earth. So I chose to walk, giving myself some time to deal with this new dilemma deciding to take the shorter route to my parents' house rather than my little apartment.
I had a somewhat eventful supper with Grandma, Mom and Dad. Poor Dad got zapped by Grandma with my stun gun while I was digging in my bag for my very silent phone. Ha! No wonder. Finding no messages on my phone explained why Ranger hadn't responded … no charge.
Just another shitty day. Uncle Fred and all the strange happenings around him with dead and missing bodies and scary body parts in bags of leaves; people trying to kill me, blowing up my cars and then Morelli had laughed at me, disbelievingly, when I confessed that the Beemer was stolen. Add to that a scary, fanatical and fixated Ramirez into the mix; an illuminating visit with Maureen Shempsky and now Ranger. Seems to be a new benchmark for me with the kind of day I have had today.
Mary Lou had dropped me off in my parking lot departing quickly at the sight of the silent, dark Ranger while considering her sudden need for Depends.
So here I stand, like a deer in the headlights under the close, patient scrutiny of Ranger's piercing stare. He probably has x-ray vision with truth and anti-bullshit discerning vision. I looked down, thinking of the evidence in my shoulder bag. I carefully looked up. Yep. He's still there and he's looking at me, very intently. Definitely Depends material. It must be the hair … and the eyes, the mouth, the body, the gun on his hip. Even in the dim light I can tell that he seems calm on the surface, staring at me, neither his expression nor his body language giving anything away of what he was thinking.
Okay. Time to pull up those big girl panties. I can do this. Slowly I step towards him while my stomach was flip flopping now with a herd of tumbling elephants and that knowing sensation of impending doom. My eyes are starting to get that prickling sensation as I try to maintain my composure. I don't want to appear weak, or look like a failure, again, or worse still, like a blubbering mess. I take a deep, shuddering breath as I reach him, realising I'd held my breath for most of the way. It felt like the longest, loneliest walk, much like in High Noon but my gun wasn't even loaded.
Ranger didn't move. He just kept his eyes locked on me as I approached. Another shuddering breath as I looked up into the dark, limpid pools that were his eyes.
"Where's the BMW, Babe?"
"I sort of had a problem, or two," I muttered as I dug the number plate and the charred piece of dashboard out of my bag. I gave them to him.
"This is all that's left of it," I confessed. Ranger raised his eyebrows and I detected a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth. I was absolutely mortified and he was actually amused?!
"And this is what's left of the car?" He confirmed, questioningly, smiling and now beginning to grin.
I nodded. "… It was … stolen."
"And they left you the plates and the registration tag. Nice touch," Ranger replied, nodding his head slowly with that smile again.
I did not think it was a nice touch at all. It was a crappy touch after a full on crappy day. As I once again reflected on this extraordinarily eventful day, a big fat tear slid down my cheek.
Ranger turned to place the plates in the back seat of the Mercedes.
"It was a car, Babe. It wasn't important."
"It's not just the car," I whined, "It's everything. It's been a really crappy day and I have all these, these … problems."
Another big, fat tear joins the other one. I couldn't think, he was so close and warm. As Ranger's eyes darkened and dilated, coming closer, very close, I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
"Here's something else to worry about," he said, his voice deep and husky.
With one warm, large hand at the nape of my neck, he drew me in to his warm, hard body and kissed me, soft at first, then serious and demanding. He drew me in closer and brought his luscious lips to mine again, in a deeper kiss as desire washed over me, hot and liquid and steamy and scary all at the same time.
"Oh boy," I whispered.
"Yeah, think about it."
"You are all I think about…. Yum."