Chapter 4

It was dusk by the time I dropped Lula back at her car at the bonds office. I ignored the stares of the few people out on the streets. I was used to it.

"You going to be okay driving around in this modern abstract car?" Lula asked.

"I'm planning on switching it out."

"You gonna go get Big Blue?"

Big Blue The Buick was technically my grandmother's car, though she'd had her license revoked. She blamed her disastrous driving on macular degeneration, but personally I think road rage combined with a hunger for drama also played a part. Either way, she didn't drive the car, so it spent its life in my parents' garage and had been there for me through several car-related emergencies over the years. Big Blue was reliable, but it was a boat on wheels.

"Nope. Big Blue doesn't fit with my new life. I'm thinking more along the lines of a sleek, black SUV."

"See if you can swing a Porsche," Lula said.

"We'll see," I lied. An SUV suited me just fine. Ranger stocked a fleet of company SUVs for his employees, and the Porsches were his private vehicles. I was planning on sneaking into Rangeman to swap out my car for something that didn't belong in either an art museum or a junkyard, but I was planning on avoiding Ranger while I did it.

"While you're at it, you might want to see if Tank or somebody wants to go with you to Gabriella's apartment tonight, on account of I've got a hot date and won't be able to make it."

"I'll be okay."

"By yourself? Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

It definitely was not, but I was grasping at straws. I really needed this day to not be a complete failure. "Probably I'll be fine. No one even tried to shoot at us when we were there earlier."

"I still say you should see if one of the Rangeman guys wants to ride along."

To be honest, that held a certain amount of appeal. With Tank or one of Ranger's other Merry Men at my back, I wouldn't need to be half as worried about getting shot or shanked. But Ranger didn't fit into my new 3-step plan. In fact, it seemed like avoiding Ranger was the best thing I could do for my new plan. That meant I needed to stop relying on Rangeman as backup. Before long, I'd have a nifty new job where I didn't even need backup, because I'd be competent all on my own.

I said goodbye to Lula and headed to Rangeman, trying to work out how to accomplish my car swap while avoiding Ranger. I hadn't quite figured it out by the time I pulled into the underground parking garage, so I was glad to see that Ranger's Porsche Cayenne was missing from its spot.

The operation went as smooth as silk. Ramon was in the control room, and he handed over the keys to a fleet vehicle, no questions asked. No one at Rangeman ever questioned me, which had its advantages. I left my POS in the last spot in a row of the parking garage, hoping to make it inconspicuous.

I parked the SUV directly in front of Gabriella's building this time, thankful that all of Rangeman's SUVs were equipped with anti-theft devices. Once that was set, all I had to keep an eye out for were artists looking to give it a new paint job. To Ranger, the cars seemed to be easy come, easy go, but I still felt bad when I was responsible for one of his cars going to the big long-term lot in the sky.

I hustled up to the third floor and knocked on the door of 3C. The guy across the hall was right, I could hear the drone of a TV.

The door opened a crack with the security chain still in place. The woman looked to be around mid-20s. Her dark hair was up in a bun, and her brown eyes regarded me warily. "Can I help you?"

"My name is Stephanie Plum. I'm looking for Gabriella."

The woman stood up straighter. "You know Gabby? Is she okay?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that. She didn't show up for her court date. I work for her bail bondsman, and I'm here to take her down to the courthouse to reschedule."

She shook her head. "I haven't seen her in a week. She hasn't been home. I've been pretty worried."

"What's your name?"

"Teresa. Give me one second." She closed the door. I heard the slide of the chain, and then she opened it again and offered me her hand. "Teresa Guillen."

"How long have you known Gabriella?"

"Not long. Just since she moved in about three weeks ago. We met when she responded to my ad about the room."

"She was new in town, right?"

"I think she moved from somewhere in the South, Texas or Georgia or something. She didn't really talk much about it, though."

"Did she have a job?"

"No. She didn't really seem to be looking for one, but she prepaid her rent for a couple months, so I wasn't too concerned."

"Do you have any idea where she could be?"

"None. I wish I did. She didn't seem to know many people around here. She spent most of her time at home. So when she didn't come back one night, I started to get worried, but I wasn't sure what to do or who to call."

"Did she pack a bag? Take anything with her?"

Teresa did a slow blink. "I'm not sure. I didn't think to look."

"Do you mind if I come in and take a look around her room?"

Teresa let me in and led me through the neat little living space. Tight galley kitchen with fridge, stove, one cupboard and one square foot of counter space. Living room with secondhand couch, armchair, television, coffee table. The rug made it homey. There were two bedrooms off the living room with a bathroom in between them.

Teresa pointed me toward the closed door, and I opened it into a ten by ten foot room. There was a tiny window facing the street, and I took a peek out to make sure the CR-V was still in one piece and was only one color. The double bed took up most of the room, and I edged alongside it to look in the closet. A couple dresses, a button-down shirt, and a black leather jacket. That was it. A chest of drawers was crammed between the bottom of the mattress and the wall. I pulled open a couple drawers and found them filled with books. Paperback, hardback, in varying sizes and conditions.

"She loves to read," Teresa said. "Sometimes she'd sit in the living room with me while I watched TV, but she always had a book in her hand."

The chest of drawers also had a couple t-shirts and some socks and underwear. No jeans.

"It seems like she packed a bag, but was planning on coming back."

"That makes me feel a little better," Teresa said. "I don't like thinking that she could be lying in a ditch somewhere."

I didn't either, but it was a potential occupational hazard of being a crackhead on Stark. "I'm not here to judge, but can you tell me what sorts of drugs Gabriella was into? That might help point me in a direction of where to look."

Teresa shook her head. "She was sober. She was really proud of herself for it. I was surprised when she got arrested, but she told me afterward that she hadn't been trying to buy. It was some kind of misunderstanding."

Yeah, as in she misunderstood the cop for a dealer. "So you never saw her using?"

"Never. She went to meetings. A couple days after she was arrested, she got her 8 month chip."

"Did she have any family? Anyone she talked about?"

She shook her head again. "I got the sense she didn't really like talking about herself or her past. She did say that she had come to town to look for someone."

"Who?"

"She never said."

"Can you think of anything else she said about this person? Anything might help."

Teresa gave palms up. "She just mentioned it once. She said she'd come to Trenton to find someone because she had a message for him. I didn't get the sense that she knew him real well, because it didn't seem like she knew his phone number."

Teresa walked me back to the door. I thanked her for her time and gave her a card, asking that she call me if she heard from Gabriella. She promised she would, and I was inclined to believe her.

My phone rang when I was back in the car, and I dug it out of my bag. "Yo."

"There's an abomination parked in my garage," Ranger said.

"I hope it's okay that I took the CR-V."

"It's fine. You obviously can't be driving around in this Par de Balos-mobile."

"A what-mobile?"

"Par de Balos. They're the gang that tagged you. Their sign is double dice, and it's all over your car. And what did they do to your side mirror?"

"That was me. I kicked it."

"Babe." I could almost hear Ranger's smile over the phone. "You want to be careful. Hanging out with Balos isn't a good idea."

"I didn't invite them to a slumber party," I said. "I was looking for an FTA who was arrested at the corner of Stark and Twelfth and has an address listed a couple blocks down."

"That's not a good place to be. Who's the FTA? Anyone I would know?"

"Doubtful. Apparently she's new in town. Her name's Gabriella Ayala, and from what I can tell so far, she's not anyone that anyone knows."

There was a beat of silence. "Where are you now?"

There was a hardness to his voice that wasn't there before. "Sitting outside the apartment Gabriella had listed. I came back after I switched cars to talk to her roommate."

"Get out of there," Ranger commanded. "Go straight home. Now. I'll meet you there."

I swallowed past my stomach that was suddenly in my throat. "What is it?"

"Babe, just leave, right now. Please."

He disconnected, and I stared dumbly at my phone for the span of several heartbeats. Then I put my car in gear and got the heck out of there. I kept an eye out for dealers or tails or monsters, and I ignored the speed limit. Ranger had really freaked me out with the 'please'.

When I pulled into my lot fifteen minutes later, I did a quick scan. No familiar Porsches or SUVs. No vehicles with a logo advertising Balos, whatever that was. The sun had set while I was on my way home, pushing dusk into dark. There were no lights on in my second-floor apartment and it looked quiet, which I took as a good sign.

The truth is, if I spent too much time ruminating over whether a crazed killer was waiting for me in my apartment, I'd never be able to go home. I'd learned a long time ago that I couldn't get hung up on things like that. Luckily it wasn't something I'd have to worry about anymore once I got my new job and moved in with Morelli. Morelli never had crazed killers waiting in his house, and if that wasn't a recipe for happily-ever-after, then I didn't know what was.

I snagged my messenger bag and headed in. I was halfway across the lot when I heard a car vroom up behind me. Black SUV. Ranger was coming in hot.

But then both front doors opened, and my heart sank when two non-Rangeman guys jumped out. One was a skinny white dude with baggy jeans and a wifebeater. He wore a red ballcap backwards and a belt around his waist, which didn't bode well for me. My experience was that guys couldn't run so well when their pants were falling around their ankles. This guy had probably had the same experience and wised up, thus the belt.

The other guy was gargantuan, and they were both stalking toward me. I debated whether I should run for the building or grab my defense spray out of my bag. Unfortunately I was paralyzed with indecision and didn't have a chance to do either of those things. The gargantuan guy moved surprisingly fast for his size, and he'd managed to get behind me and take hold of both my arms.

"What the heck?" I struggled in gargantuan's grasp. "Let go of me!"

"Shut up," he growled.

"Get her over to the shadows," the skinny guy said.

I really didn't want to go into the shadows. I doubled my efforts, twisting and kicking out at gargantuan. My heel connected hard with his kneecap, and he grunted. His grip loosened for long enough that I squirmed away. My only goal was to get far, far away, but I ran straight into the barrel of skinny guy's gun. My breath caught in my throat and I came up short.

"Listen, puta," he said. "You wanna be real nice to me."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me about Gabriella."

Crap. Then I was in trouble. "I don't know anything!"

"I know you been looking for her. And you're not the only one."

"Well I didn't find her! No one knew anything about her."

"We know about Gabriella. And we know that if you keep looking for her, it's not gonna be real good for your health."

"No problem," I said. At that moment I wasn't all that motivated to continue the search anyway.

Gargantuan started limping his way back to the car and shot me one last glare. "Don't forget to give her the message."

"Oh yeah," skinny guy said. He got real close and stuck his gun in my face. "You wanna tell Bravo One to quit sniffing around, too. And tell him to watch his six."

I didn't know who or what a Bravo One was, but I nodded eagerly. Skinny guy had turned his back to head to the car when a new set of headlights lit us up. Both guys were already running back to their vehicle. Another black SUV was cruising into the lot, and I was hoping that the cavalry had just arrived.

"Shit, they gonna follow us," skinny guy said.

"Just shoot her," Gargantuan suggested. "Maybe that'll slow them down."

I had time to throw my hands out in front of me, hoping that'd ward off a bullet. I heard a loud pop, followed by another, and then several more but I lost track when searing pain sliced through me. I was on my back, staring up at the sky. I dimly registered car doors slamming, tires squealing, and then I couldn't see the sky anymore because there was Ranger.

"Dios." He was on a knee beside me. "Steph?"

"I think I've been shot," I told him.

He scooped me up, and then we were running. Ranger's arms were tight around me, and he'd positioned one of his hands to press against my stomach.

"Dammit, that really hurts," I told him.

"That's a good thing, Babe. Hold on."

Tank was ashen as we dove into the backseat of the SUV, and his foot was on the gas pedal before Ranger had even pulled the door closed.

"Hospital! Now!" Ranger told him.

"Oh boy. I must really be toast."

His eyes slid to me. "You're not toast."

"I've never seen you yell before."

"I'm not yelling."

"You just yelled at Tank. Because you think I'm toast."

"If you want to see yelling, say you're toast one more time."

I heard Tank on his cell phone preparing the hospital for our arrival, telling them that we'd be pulling up to the emergency bay in ten minutes.

"Make it five," Ranger told him.

I heard the screech of tires and multiple horns honking at us as we flew through an intersection. Tank was already playing fast and loose with traffic laws.

The Cayenne hit a pothole, sending a jolt of pain through me, and a small whimper escaped. Ranger's eyes darkened, which I wouldn't have thought possible, since they were already dilated black. I saw his Adam's apple bob, and that's when I noticed that he was also breathing faster than normal. I knew that it wasn't from our ten-yard sprint. Ranger could sprint five miles and not break a sweat.

I reached up to touch my fingers to his neck, and felt his pulse racing. It never did that.

"Shit," I whimpered again.

I'd been handling the situation pretty well. I hadn't gotten hysterical when I took the hit. I hadn't lost my lunch yet at the sight of all my blood pooling up through Ranger's hands as he pressed against my stomach. I wasn't feeling all that great ten seconds ago, but I felt myself starting to take a deeper nosedive. Probably it was the adrenaline let-down, but there was also a big part of me that didn't want to think too much about the gravity of the situation that was causing Ranger to lose his grip. There was another part of me that was lamenting that I hadn't eaten my leftover pineapple upside-down cake for breakfast while I had the chance.

Ranger was straddling me with one knee on the seat and the other foot on the floorboard. He'd sort of tossed me into the car, and I was sprawled on my back underneath him. Under different circumstances, I wouldn't have complained about the position. He used one hand to fish a windbreaker out of the cargo area, then pressed it to my stomach and leaned some weight against me and the makeshift compress. Thank god it was dark enough that I didn't have to look too closely at the blood up to his elbows.

I closed my eyes against the sight of him hovering over me, blocking him out. Denial had come through for me in the past, and though I'd never tried it on a gunshot wound, I didn't see the harm in trying.

"Open your eyes," he commanded.

I tried to comply, but found it was difficult to drag my eyelids open, and I must not have been fast enough for Ranger's liking.

"Steph!" he barked. "Look at me!"

I managed to get my eyes open, and it took me another beat to get them to focus. Ranger was still leaning over me, and he had one of his hands on my face. My face felt wet and sticky, and I didn't want to think about why.

I tried to tell him that he was yelling again, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. My tongue felt heavy, and I was tingly all over. Someone had put weights on my eyelids, and I let them droop again.

I heard Ranger call out to me, but I couldn't process what he said. I felt as if I were floating. And then I felt nothing.