Chapter 3

SPOV

I pull into my parking lot faster than I should, worry for Ranger making my thoughts and motions erratic. By the time I'd walked to my parents' house from Joe's and climbed in my car, I'd come up with a bare-bones plan to at least keep an eye on Fratelli and Joey P. I'd tried calling Ranger's cell a couple more times on the trip to my apartment, and finally left a terse, "Call me, it's important!" message.

As usual, the only parking spot is by the dumpster and today I don't have time to complain. Hauling ass upstairs, I grumble at having to slow down long enough to get the key in my lock. My sneakers are toed off as soon as the apartment door closes behind me and my shirt is off and on the floor on my way through the living room. By the time I'm in front of my closet, most of my clothes are off and I'm searching for the outfit I wore for the last Rangeman distraction I did. One hand grabs the dry-cleaning bag with the silky cream blouse and tight skirt while the other reaches for the shoebox that holds the strappy black 4" heels that go with the outfit. The distraction was to get a man accused of corporate espionage out of a bar, hence the sophisticated yet sexy gal Friday get-up.

As soon as I pull the outfit from the closet, I'm assaulted by memories. Ranger's eyes were dilated with lust when he entered his apartment. The skirt hit a couple inches above the knee and was tight around my ass. The small pleat in the back was the only thing that made it possible for me to walk in the butter soft leather heels that put me eye-level with him. The blouse was unbuttoned just enough to offer a glimpse of cleavage, the eye drawn there with a simple pendant necklace. Ranger gave me a thorough once over, his eyes moving down from head to toe and back again, settling on my lips. I'd made the paper again the week before, and thought it was too soon to try and pretend to be someone else, so I'd donned a nice, and pricey, blond pageboy wig to cover my crazy curls. Make-up played up my blue eyes, and I'd finished it with shockingly red lips that held his attention now. With a strangled Babe, he led me to the 911 and was silent on the way to the cigar lounge where we expected William Pacey to be.

We snagged and bagged Pacey, but instead of taking me home, Ranger drove us back to Rangeman. We stayed far apart in the elevator up to the penthouse, but once we were inside the door and away from prying eyes and security cameras, he had me backed up against the wall. He kissed my forehead, my neck, my chest…everywhere but my ruby red lips. His hands carefully pulled the wig off, dropping it to the floor behind us. His fingers were gentle as he unpinned my hair and ran his fingers through it, releasing the curls. Then he was back to kissing behind my ear and down my neck while his hands worked their way up from my knees, pulling the skirt with him. I should have been embarrassed by it being bunched up around my waist and bared for him to see, but I didn't care. I only cared about the hand snaking under the waistband of my lacy underwear while the other helped hold me up. And after he touched me? I didn't care about anything at all. He kept up a running stream of Spanish in my ear as he brought me higher and higher. At some point, he switched to English and through the fog of lust and desire I heard him admit that the fantasy of my red lips wrapped around him would get him through the next lonely night. The idea of him thinking about me like that when I'm not here pushed me over the edge, a keening wail escaping me as my hands grasped his forearms. He let me come down from my high, still nibbling on my ear and murmuring endearments. He was unprepared for me to switch our positions and put his back to the wall, but he wasn't complaining when I lowered myself to my knees while unzipping his cargos. His eyes got a little bigger when I said, "Let's see if we can't replace that fantasy with a memory," and he certainly didn't stop me from doing just that, choosing to thread his hands into my hair to anchor me where he wanted.

Pulling the dry-cleaning bag off the outfit, I remember the rest of the night. After he recovered, he led us to the bathroom for a hard and fast coupling in the shower, followed by a slower and more soulful joining in the middle of the night. And then in the morning, things were back to normal. He went to work, I went home, and we went back to the same holding pattern we've always been in. The only difference was this time, I hadn't made any effort to get back together with Joe. That was the last time Ranger and I were together, and it was the night that I realized companionship with good sex was completely different than love and a deep connection. As long as I had the latter with Ranger, I was never going to be satisfied with what Joe was offering, and I was finally at place where I wasn't willing to settle for the easier one.

Shaking myself out of the past, I grab some undergarments and dress as fast as I can. Once the clothes are in place, I hurry to the bathroom with the wig and do the best I can to get it in place without Ella here to help me. Being a Jersey girl means I can do my make-up in my sleep, so it's a quick job to line my eyes with a kohl eyeliner, apply some eyeshadow with a heavy hand, and throw on several coats of mascara. I can't bring myself to coat my lips in red, choosing a bold pink, instead. As an afterthought, I use a dark brown eyebrow pencil to add a beauty mark above my lip. Twelve minutes from the time I started stripping clothes off until I'm ready to head to Carmine's and distract the mob. Piece of cake.

My bravado falls a little when I look around and can't find my phone to call Ranger again. Digging through the pockets of my jeans, I realize that I must have left it in my car when I dashed up here to change. Grabbing the inverter that lets me charge just about everything in the car and the power cord for my stun gun, I waste precious time waiting for the elevator, deciding that not breaking an ankle on the stairs is the wiser course of action. Back in the car, I toss the inverter and cord on top of my bag and grab my phone from the drink holder. My breath hitches in my chest when I see that I missed a call from Ranger. I almost drop the phone when I fumble through getting to the voicemail he left.

Babe. We're in the middle of something. Call me back. Now. I only have a couple minutes before I'll be unavailable again.

I immediately hit callback, but by the way it keeps ringing, I know I missed my chance to talk to him. Resisting the urge to throw my phone, or cry, I calmly leave a message telling him that I need him and to be careful.

Pulling out of the parking lot, I head toward Carmine's, hoping I can either stop Joe's mob buddies or at least slow them down. I don't know what Ranger's involved in and have no idea what would blow any cover he might be under. I have no idea how to go about keeping him safe. Is this how he feels every time my panic button goes off?

The drive to the hole in the wall restaurant is spent giving myself a pep-talk that is only partially successful. In the end, my plan isn't all that great, but it starts with a distraction. That part, I can do. I've proven that. It's after that, that things will most likely go to shit. Parking down the block from Carmine's, I can see the grey Mercedes up the street. Good. They're where they're supposed to be. My phone rings, and it's Morelli again. I let it go to voicemail, something to deal with after I put the first part of my plan into place. I try one more time to reach Ranger and get his voicemail again. With shaking hands, I plug the stun gun in to charge, hoping I won't end up needing it later.

Saying a prayer to the whoever the patron saint of idiots is, I grab one of my Rangeman trackers, the one that doubles as a nice, capped ink pen, and slide it up into the arm of my blouse. The lights are dim inside Carmine's, and I hope that that works in my favor. I sidle up to the bar, ordering seltzer with a lemon twist, and watch Bobby Fratelli and Joey P. shovel and impressive amount of pasta down their throats. Just as I'm losing my nerve and opportunity, Bobby heads to the bathroom. Saying another prayer, I make sure the pen tracker is in my left hand as I head in the same direction after a couple minutes. As he nears his table, I run into him, grabbing his blazer with my right hand while my left slips the pen into his pocket. We start to fall against the booth they're sitting in before he regains his footing, and I use both hands to pat his lapels. "I'm so sorry!" I say, as I back up while dipping my head away from him. I can feel their eyes on my ass as I hurry to the bathroom, happy to be away from them.

Five minutes in the bathroom feels like forever. While I'm there, I get another call from Joe, again asking me to dinner. Jackass never bothered to take me out when we were together! Since I was able to plant the tracker on Fratelli, I agree to meet him in Princeton, in the opposite direction of the Barrens where he's going to send Ranger. I can't get off the phone fast enough, bile rising in my throat at playing his game. When I peek my head back out, I see my targets heading for the door. Perfect. There's no way running to my car won't attract their attention, so I bring the phone to my ear, pretending to take a call while strolling down the street and around the corner. Once the Mercedes pulls away from the curb, I hop in my car to follow. I know I won't be able to tail them very well, but for now, I head in the general direction of the Pine Barrens, southeast of Trenton.

When I literally can't see the forest for the trees and my signal has gone in and out, I pull over and play the part of the video where Fratelli gave Joe directions to give to Ranger, scribbling them down on a Cluck in the Bucket napkin. My phone dinging lets me know that I have a signal again…and I missed another call from Ranger. Damn it, I hate the Barrens!

Before I go any further and lose the signal, I try Ranger again with no luck. Taking a chance, I call the Rangeman main number again.

"Good afternoon, Rangeman, LLC. How may I direct your call?"

"Hi, Hal. It's Steph. Is Ranger there, or anyone from the core team?"

"Steph! Ranger just raced out of here without a word! Are you ok?"

Crap. I should have told him to ignore Joe in my message. "For now. Is anyone from the core team there?"

"Still unavailable."

Shit. "What about Ram?"

"Yeah, let me connect you."

My fingers work Google Maps as I wait for Ram to pick up. I see that I've wandered forty minutes out of my way and smack the steering wheel. I should have thought things through and called Rangeman for help sooner.

"Hey, Steph. What do you need?"

I've been debating what I want to tell him. "I dropped my fancy pen tracker on one of my skips. We're over here by the Barrens. Can you pull up their location for me?"

"Sure."

I hear him typing for a couple seconds before he starts talking again. "Ok, it looks like they've stopped. They're about a half an hour ahead of you, but you need to switch roads."

I rattle off the address I overheard, and Ram confirms that that is where they are and talks me through how to get to them. I'm not real excited to wander around the area by myself, but it can't be helped. If Ranger ran out on whatever he was doing, Joe most likely got to him and fed him a line of bullshit about me being in trouble. "How long ago did Ranger leave? Does he have a tracker?"

"Negative, and about twenty minutes. Tore out of here in a hurry without talking to anyone. Any idea what's going on?"

"Maybe. I really need you to have Tank, Lester, or Bobby call me. It's important."

"Steph, don't rush into anything. Do you need backup?"

I hesitate. There's been some turnover and transfers at Rangeman, and I don't know all the new guys, or which ones are in Ranger's inner circle. "Probably, but I'm not sure they'd get here in time. Is it possible to have someone Ranger trusts with the secret shit head this way?"

"Fuck. Core team has the most clearance, but Woody and me would probably be next, with Hector. I'm running the floor and Hector's overseeing a time-sensitive install. I'll send Woody that way. Try and hold off on doing anything until he gets there, yeah?"

"Thanks, Ram. I have to go." I deliberately don't address that last part, not wanting to promise to wait when I probably won't. Not when Ranger's life might be on the line, especially when it's because he thinks he's trying to save me again.

Getting back on the road, I follow Ram's instructions and am not surprised to lose my signal again within minutes. It ends up taking me almost an hour to find the right road for the cabin, and Ranger's Cayenne is so well camouflaged in the trees that I almost miss it. Even before I wish it, I know that he's not going to be sitting in the car, not when he thinks I'm in trouble. Because I got lost, twice, he arrived here ahead of me, taking away my ability to warn him off. Leaving my car near his, I toe off the four-inch heels and berate myself for not bringing a change of clothes. Once again, flying by the seat of my pants is biting me in the ass. There's a pair of CAT boots in the back seat, and they'll work to get me to the cabin. The stun gun gets tucked into the waistband at the small of my back and for one of the few times in my life, I wish I had my gun. Hiking down the lane, I cautiously creep up behind the Mercedes. I don't know where anyone is, but maybe a car alarm will distract them. With that in mind, I grab the handle of the passenger door, prepared to run into the trees when the alarm goes off.

Nothing happens except the car door opening. Shit. I guess there's no point in locking the car in the middle of nowhere. Peeking inside tells me that there's no one in the car. Climbing half inside and over the middle console, I push the button to pop the trunk. I'm about to back out when I see a scary looking knife in the door pocket and grab it. Knives aren't my thing any more than guns, but it's better than nothing at this point. Quietly pushing the passenger door closed, I creep toward the back and verify that the trunk is empty except a folded, extra-large, green zippered bag, like the ones you store Christmas trees in. Cripes, I'm never going to look at my mom's Christmas decoration storage the same way again.

Cracking my knuckles, both literally and figuratively, I stay close to the tree line and sneak my way toward the cabin. I absently wonder what exactly Joe said to Ranger to get him out here, and I stop short when I realize that I made the situation worse. Unintentionally, but worse all the same. All those times I called and didn't leave a message, or left a vague, call me, it's important! gave Joe's story of me being in trouble some credibility. Ranger's in this position because of me.

Once I get close enough, I hear the sounds of a struggle inside the cabin. There's shouting, and then my heart stops beating when I hear the gun shot.