Thank you to everyone who has left a review, followed or favorited this story. I'll never abandon a story, but this one seems to be taking its sweet time.

Many thanks to midnightandahalf for her insight, reassurance and feedback. All mistakes are mine, but sadly, Ranger is not. Anything you recognize belongs to Evanovich and company.

Chapter 7

David Steiner is a self-important windbag who compensates for his small stature by being a large prick. Becky Steiner is a bottle blond who is half his age with DD silicone breasts and lips inflated to the size of sausages. Both are seated across from me in conference room one. It isn't often a client tries to upsell me on a system, but Steiner seems convinced he is too important to only have a standard security system. His ego is being stroked, literally, by Mrs. Steiner who has her hand under the table, presumably on his leg.

"I want to know I'm protected, Mr. Manoso. That Becky here is safe when I'm out of town. People don't understand what a cutthroat business office supplies can be. It's kill or be killed in my line of work."

"Mr. Steiner, I can assure you Rangeman and the security product we are suggesting will be more than adequate for protecting you and your family." I could tell this pompous jackass a few things about kill or be killed. "However, I'd be happy to re-quote the system with the enhancements you've requested."

As I glance from husband to wife, I feel her stocking foot brush against the inside of my thigh. I suspect the interior video cameras are more to keep an eye on Becky rather than protect her. Should have spent the money on a better prenup. Either way, I've had all I can take of the Steiners. Meeting over.

Sliding my chair back and standing, I extend my hand to David and nod to Becky. Women throwing themselves at me is nothing new, but fucking the client's wife is not good business. "I'll be in touch. One of my men will show you out."

I catch Vince's eye as I exit the conference room. He can show the Steiner's out as I head for the stairwell, thankful once again we had the foresight to put the conference rooms on the first floor. Always have an escape.

My first meeting of the day had been painless compared to my meeting with the Steiners. I'm one for two this morning, although I suspect once I get Steiner the upgrades he wants, he'll sign as well. I'll have to pay the install team hazard pay if Becky is onsite when they arrive. Rich, bored women try to seduce my men too often; like their life is a badly scripted porn movie or something. My men know nailing anyone in the client's household is grounds for immediate termination.

Taking the stairs two at a time gets my blood moving after two hours of sitting. I bypass five and continue up to seven to change. My suits are all tailored to fit perfectly, but I'm never really comfortable in corporate attire. The black t-shirts and cargoes we wear on patrol are the Rangeman version of fatigues. You can take the man out of the military, but you never take the military out of the man.

I feel my phone vibrate with an incoming text message as I'm checking the gear in my utility belt. Call me.

He's obviously waiting for my call because Al picks up on the first ring. "Yo."

"You got something for me?"

"The fire started in the engine compartment. Looks like something flammable was leaking onto the exhaust manifold or catalytic converter and ignited from the heat."

I take a minute to contemplate what he's telling me. "Why would a nearly new, well maintained fleet vehicle have fluids leaking?"

"That I can't answer, but I can tell you that it would be extremely rare without some outside intervention. If the line failed, say a hose clamp broke or a line split, the fluid would be expelled quickly. The dashboard would light up like a Christmas tree and the car would break down before it would catch on fire. But if the line were nicked, it would be a slow, steady drip, and the car would continue to run long enough to heat up to the point where it could ignite."

"Anything else I should know?"

"Check for puddles before driving." Al's a funny guy.

I disconnect and call Tank. "My office in 5."

I grab a handful of almonds from the container on the counter and head for the stairs. It's still a couple of hours before lunch but my body needs the fuel. I do a quick scan as I walk across the fifth floor, but everything appears to be running smoothly. Tank's door opens as I pass and he follows me into my office.

"Al thinks Steph's car was sabotaged. She said she wasn't aware of any new threats and we haven't picked up anything here. I want to know why her car was tampered with."

"How do we know she was the target?" Tank asks. "Could be someone with a beef against Rangeman saw the car and decided to fuck with it. Steph finds trouble that isn't hers all the time."

"We'll assume she is the target until we know otherwise. I want a shadow watching over her for now."

"And where do you propose we get the manpower to add a shadow for a threat we don't know even exists? Shit, you're taking patrol because we're down a man. Now you want to pull someone else off the street to watch over Steph when we don't know for sure she's in danger?"

I lock eyes with my second in command. The man I've trusted with my life more than a few times. "Yes. Dismissed."

The staring contest goes on a beat too long before he leaves my office. What the fuck? Since when does Tank question my orders? I know I can't let this drag on, but I'm a mercenary, not Dr. Phil. What's your problem, Pierre?