AU of Notorious 19, contains canon plot points and some dialogue.

Chapter Twenty-One

Steph

We threw clothes on as fast as we could and hit the stairs without waiting for the elevator. The control room was in crisis mode. You'd think that would mean shouting and panic like in the movies. This was scarier. Sharp, quiet voices and clinical efficiency. The control desk full of men who didn't look up. Watching monitors. Listening to scanners. Coordinating assets. Tank was standing lead over it all. The living embodiment of immovable strength.

Ranger spoke all of three words to him, then tugged me toward the stairs. "Police scanners are reporting a large fireball in the vicinity of Kinsey's building. Tank said Miguel mentioned the scent of accelerant a few moments before the alarms went up and his com went dead."

I stopped cold on the stairs. "He was inside? Is he…"

"We don't know," he said, turning back long enough to scoop me up. He pinned me to his side to get me moving again. We hit the 911 at the same time. Dropping into the seat with the rev of engine. The tires chirps when he whipped back, the gate already standing open for our departure.

The drive should have taken eight to ten minutes, but we made it in five. The building already surrounded by engines and cop cars and flashing lights. Hosemen dressed in their turnout gear braved toward the inferno, battling demons with nothing but axes and arcs of water. It was like a bad dream. Like seeing Hell itself. The night filled with smoke as the glowing embers burned upward and became ghosts in the sky.

Ranger kept me close to him while he found the captain, listening to the radio transmissions as the fight raged. He relayed it back to Rangeman when the call came in. They'd found a survivor. It took a minute to see anything in the murky darkness, but the second fireman breached the smoke carrying a figure on a backboard my heart started pounding in my throat again.

He was covered in too much black to tell if it was soot or third degree burns.

Ranger held my shoulders to focus me. "I need you to go with Miguel to the hospital and keep me in the loop on his condition. Take the Turbo. I'll catch a ride and meet up with you after the scene has been secured." He placed the keys into my hand. "Pick out something comfortable from the lockbox under the seat and keep it with you. Miguel's vehicle was in plain view when the building went up. There's a chance whoever orchestrated this knew he was inside."

"That's horrible! Who would do that?"

The intensity in his eyes made me swallow. I promised to take a gun. From the way he was looking at me I was sure I'd regret not keeping that promise.

Dammit. I hated carrying a gun.

Ranger curled a hand around the back of my neck and kissed me. "Be careful."

"You too."

I know I didn't need to say it, but sometimes you can't help the way you feel.

We parted ways and I followed the ambulance to St. Francis. Parked the Turbo in the parking garage. I took a .38 from the lockbox and stuffed it against the small of my back, even though there wasn't much room there thanks to my expanding waistline. Thankfully the shirt I'd grabbed was Ranger's and it covered the bumps at the front and the back.

I got a few odd looks when I walked into the ICU like I belonged, but by the time somebody tried to stop me I'd already spotted Miguel in a curtained bed at the end of the row. "Excuse me," the nurse said. "No one is allowed back here."

"I'm his wife," I told her.

She looked doubtful. Spouses were the only exception to the rule and we both knew it. She cut a look to Miguel. He was in bad shape, but he was conscious. He nodded confirmation. He didn't look particularly comfortable about it, considering I was his boss's girlfriend, but thankfully the nurse assumed the pained expression was because of his burns. "I gave him something a few minutes ago, so don't be alarmed if he gets kind of loopy."

"God bless you," I told her. She gave me a thin smile and walked away. I sat in the empty chair next to Miguel's bed. The burns looked really bad. His face and neck were dry and red. His shirt scorched. His arms were the worst. I could see edges of shiny blisters under the white gauze wrapping. It hurt just looking at him. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Side door was hanging open when I rolled up," he managed. Voice raw from the smoke. "Figured the intruder was still inside. Didn't realize something was wrong until I smelled gasoline. And then the rocket hit. Dove behind a pillar. Whole building in flames." His words were starting to slur.

"You never saw anyone?"

Barely a head shake. He was unconscious.

I spoke to the doctor and then I called Ranger. "He has first and second degree burns over 38% of his body. They said most of them were superficial, but the burns on his arms were pretty extensive. It'll take weeks of recovery, and he'll have scars."

"Did he say what happened?"

"He said it was a rocket."

"That would explain the damage. The marshal confirmed evidence of an accelerant after they managed to put out the fire. I don't suppose Miguel saw the arsonist."

"No. But he did say the side door was open. Like an invitation."

"Which means our unsub not only knew he was in the building, he lured him in."

"This is sounding personal on more than one front. Whoever this is isn't just after Kinsey. They're after you too."

"And anyone connected to me, apparently. Where are you right now, are you safe?"

"I'm sitting in the ER with Miguel."

"Are you armed?"

Sigh. "Yes."

"Good. I'll be there are soon as I can."

ooo

I'd gotten pretty comfortable with Ranger's silence over the years, but the persistent quiet on the drive back to Rangeman was anything but comfortable. Ranger kept his own counsel. He was still deep in thought when we reached the cool solitude of his apartment. He placed his keys in the silver tray on the sideboard. His gun next to them. Soft weight of metal on metal. "Stephanie, I'm giving you another chance to back out of this. You don't have to get involved any further if you don't want to."

"You're a target as much as Kinsey. I can't just walk away from that."

His face was all Fort Knox when he turned to me. Sticking his hand in the back of my pants. He came up with the .38 and I couldn't suppress the grimace. "Would you really be willing to carry full time until this is over, because that frown you just made says no."

"Okay, so I'm not crazy about guns. But I'm also not crazy about you facing this alone. Like it or not we're sort of a package deal."

His eyes softened a little.

"You really don't have any idea who's doing this?"

"No. The code was secret, but it's been years since the unit was disbanded. Someone might have had too much to drink one night and talked too much. Somebody might have shared his life story with a woman and not thought anything of it. My instincts tell me one of the men is involved, but it's not a given fact. Without something solid we're in a waiting game."

"Shared his life story with a woman? I can see why you wouldn't want to make that mistake."

"Babe."

"What? That basically means we can't be trusted."

"It means not everything in our military career was meant to be shared. Not that you couldn't be trusted with it. I trust you like I trust Tank. But some burdens have to be carried alone." He waited to make sure I wasn't going to get annoyed with him before he went on. "Rehearsal is at seven o'clock on Friday, followed by dinner. The wedding is at four on Saturday. Is there any way I can talk you into staying with me until this is resolved?"

"Do you really think that's necessary?"

"Rangeman would be hard to breach, which makes it nearly impossible to get to me. Your apartment is much more vulnerable. I'm worried that because I'm inaccessible the next target will be someone I love. You'd be at the top of that list."

"So it's not just because you want to have a lot of wild sweaty sex without having to commute?"

"Babe, can you take this seriously please?"

"I am taking it serious, I swear! It's just that it's easier to take it serious if it's not so serious."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "So is that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. But just so you know, I was prepared to offer wild sweaty sex as a bonus."

"Well now I'm definitely in."

The rest of his stone face eased.

ooo

It had taken two thorough scrubbings and a lot of hot water to get the soot smell out, but by the time Ranger and I retired to his bed there wasn't a hint of crazy firebomber anywhere but inside my head. I was pretty good at denial, and I'd certainly faced my share of fires. Seeing the aftermath on one of Ranger's men, though, was something that would be hard to forget.

Before he left for work the next morning, I asked Ranger to send someone to the armory for Tiki. I figured the best way to keep the bad thoughts at bay was the go on business as usual, and business as usual was catching Brody Logan. So far he'd been squirrely, but I was figuring persistence was what would pay off in this case. And if that didn't work, I could always order an anvil from Acme.

Lula was already at the bonds office when I arrived. "What happened to your arm?"

"Freak accident. Nothing serious."

"You look annoyed. Is Tiki getting you into trouble?"

No, it was my life that was getting me into trouble. "I've got a lot of things on my mind. Like Cubbin. His disappearance is gnawing at me. I mean, it's not like he went for a walk in the woods and never came home. The guy was in a hospital. There were video cameras. There was limited access. Two nurses were on duty."

"What if it was one of the nurses that snuck him out?" Lula asked.

"I wouldn't put it passed Norma Kruger. She didn't give me warm fuzzies when I talked to her. Problem is, even with Kruger's help I can't figure out how Cubbin got off the surgical floor without getting picked up on any cameras. Both Briggs and the police looked at the tapes."

"You think she has magical powers? Like the invisibility cloak from Harry Potter?"

"That would be too weird."

"I heard weirder. For example, I wouldn'ta thought three days ago that we'd be riddin' around with a magic tiki."

"Speaking of," Connie said, leaning around me to look out the window.

Logan was out there again, this time with a slim jim. I ran for the door, but like a woodland creature he sensed danger and scampered off before I could reach him. Damn. "This is getting old."

"You could always set one of them traps like Wyle E. Coyote. I'd bet the Brody Logan version of a pile of birdseed would be a pot brownie."

"I don't need a pot brownie. I already have Tiki."

"Well you should use it sooner rather than later," Connie said. "Logan was a medium bond. We need his recovery money. And don't forget, you still have Dotty Luchek. That bond might be small, but it'd still be nice to clear it off the books."

True. I didn't particularly want to go after a prostitute that reminded me of my mother, but that was the job. And even though I didn't exactly need the money anymore, I did have a closure rate to uphold. It was a matter of professional pride. "I want to do a drive-by on Nurse Norma first. If nothing turns up we'll try Dottie Luchek."

ooo

Lula and I drove the Mercedes down Olden and cut across town, idling past Norma Kruger's condo. The Jag was in its assigned spot, but the curtains on the condo were drawn. Probably asleep from working the graveyard shift. I didn't think there was any point in knocking. I looped the parking lot and was on my way out when I noticed a rust-ridden van parked across from Kruger's apartment. A tangerine skinned woman with fried blonde hair behind the wheel. Susan Cubbin.

I parked next to her and asked Lula to stay in the car with Tiki.

Susan barely cut me a look when I approached. The cat was sleeping next to her on the front seat, a sleeping bag stretched out across the back. The van smelled like kitty litter. "What's up?" I asked her.

"I'm looking for my jerk husband. What's up with you?"

"Same. Have you been parked here long?"

"Long enough to know that if Dominatrix Barbie has my husband somewhere it's here. She never goes anywhere else unless she's working. He's probably all tied up in there. She's probably turned her powder room into a sex dungeon."

"How do you know where she goes? Have you been following her?"

"I only followed her on the first day. She spent two hours at The Clinic, from 4 to 6, and then she did a shift at Central. It was a real snoozefest. Mostly I'm watching the condo. I'm waiting for a sign that he's in there and then I'm going in like gangbusters."

"What clinic? Is it attached to the hospital?"

"No. She's moonlighting at a private practice on Deeley Street. Not that I saw any actual patients going in or out. Could be a research place. There are a lot of them between here and Princeton."

I gave Susan another business card and wished her luck, and then returned to Lula. "Well?"

"It's Susan Cubbin. She's hunkered down looking for her husband and the five million dollars. She said Nurse Kruger has been moonlighting at a private practice on Deeley. Might be worth checking out." I called Connie. "Can you look up a place on Deeley called The Clinic?"

She tapped for a minute on her keyboard. "It's a private clinic for surgical recovery. Usually that means it's a spa type facility where healthy men and women can hang out after cosmetic procedures like face-lifts and liposuction. Two doctors are listed on staff. Abu Darhmal and Craig Fish." She gave me the address. "I can go deeper if you want, but it'll take time."

"Sure. I'm not in a rush."

I fed the address into my GPS and following it to one of the many industrial complexes that lined the highway. Most of the buildings were medical arts. A plumbing supply company. A FexEx facility. And The Clinic, off by itself at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was pretty unremarkable for a plastic surgery day spa. I'd been expecting something state of the art, with big shiny glass windows and a lot of clean modern lines. I was not expecting an ugly avocado colored stucco building. "This can't be right."

"According to Connie it is," Lula said. "Look, it says The Clinic right there on the side."

"It doesn't look like they're doing any business."

"Yeah, I don't see any ladies waddling around after having fat sucked out. I don't like the looks of this place neither. I wouldn't want to do no convalescing here."

"I'm going to poke around a little. Are you coming?"

"I guess. As long as I don't catch a whiff of no cooties."

We tried the front door first, but there was no answer. Blinds on the windows were drawn too. There was a big roll-down steel door at the back covering the entrance to an underground garage, and beside it was a steel fire door with a keypad, and a drop box big enough for large packages. No sign patients would come or go by this side either. Not very encouraging for a place that was supposed to cater to the face-lift crowd.

I decided to ask some of the neighbors. Started at the FedEx store. They'd said The Clinic was pretty quiet. Rare to see anyone about. But that every once in a while they'd ship a bunch of cold packs all at once. Their nearest neighbor, Myron Cryo, said pretty much the same. Always looked closed. Never any traffic. He did say the security guard heard the garage door open on occasion. But that was it.

"Something doesn't feel right here. My instincts are telling me to get a look inside."

"Are you sure that's not just your nosey gene? You know you got that real strong from your granny's side."

"I'm mostly sure. All the incognito coming and going tells me their hiding something, and I don't think it's because of rich clients."

"You're thinking they might be running some kind of identity changing operation. Like if you need to disappear and got the money we'll smuggle you out and give you a new face."

"Maybe. But whatever it is I'm thinking there's a chance they might have Cubbin stashed in there, but I don't want to go in hot as bond enforcement just incase I'm wrong. If he's not in there I want to be able to look around without tipping anybody off."

"We could always go in tonight. I'm sure the Man of Mystery could get us through that keypad door."

"I don't want to bother Ranger with this. He has a lot on his plate already. But I got a really good look at that drop box. It was pretty big. At least two feet wide and three feet deep. I'd bet Randy Briggs would fit inside it."