Chapter Nine

The FBI and DEA were still in the control room when I left Ranger's office. They were talking to Tank. Looked like he was going over some details and setting them up with numbers to the secure lines that come directly to the Rangeman control room. Carson, the FBI guy, was arguing with Tank in a low voice I couldn't hear.

Pritchard stepped back from it. Obviously didn't have the same objections that Carson had. Not surprising. He struck me as the laid back type. Not high strung like Agent Carson. Carson should probably switch to decaf.

Then again, since Alvarez killed an agent to escape last night his anger might be justified, if a little misplaced.

Pritchard wandered over to me with a friendly smile. Folded his arms when he reached my side and turned to face the room with me. "So, guess you're on board, huh?"

"Looks like it." I said, still watching Carson. Pritchard followed my eye line.

"Don't mind Carson. He's got control issues. The fact he's begging for Manoso's help at all must mean he's out of leads and desperate."

"And why are you here?"

Pritchard smiled. "My leads weren't much better until you showed up. All we've had to go on was a spike in flagged tox screens and some reports of suspicious activity. Just enough to warrant an investigation. Usually by the time I get word of another potential victim they've already vanished or died."

"Jeez. Have a lot of people died?"

"At least four that I've been able to prove, but I haven't had any luck tracing it back to a dealer. Nobody's talking. And I mean nobody. I'm pretty new to the Trenton office, but the guys I work with say they've never heard the streets so quiet. I can only guess that means there are some major players involved. In fact, I'm kind of surprised this Mooner person spoke up at all. He must really trust you."

I nodded in a non-committal way. Ranger had made a point in labeling Mooner a confidential informant, and Ranger never did anything without a reason.

Pritchard accepted that and moved on. "It's probably safe to assume you'll be working pretty closely with Manoso on this, given your relationship."

"We just work together," I said with a little more force than I'd intended. It was an overreaction. I know that. But it wasn't really my fault, given the tension between us. I caught it when Pritchard flushed.

"I'm sorry. Carson called you his girlfriend, I just assumed he meant it literally. Guess I should have known that he was just being an ass after the whole Bombshell Bounty Hunter thing. I mean, that's a pretty misogynistic thing to do, reducing a professional woman like you to an epithet based solely on your looks. Even if you are hot."

I let out an exasperated sigh. That was almost more sweet than it was awkward. And just went to prove how new to the area he was. Anyone who's been in Trenton longer than six weeks knows that Bombshell Bounty Hunter is what the papers call me every time something around me catches fire and explodes. Let's just say they get to use it a lot. And it's not my favorite thing.

Pritchard smiled again, letting it crinkle the corners of his eyes. He reached for his wallet. "If you dig up anything about which dealers are involved or where the product is coming from, give me a call," he said, handing me his card.

"I'm sure Ranger will keep you informed."

"Of course. I know that. It's just that he's kind of acting as an unofficial liaison. I can't guarantee what will make it to me and how fast. Just think about it, alright?"

I offered him a polite smile and accepted the card. Pritchard nodded and wandered back over to Tank. Carson wasn't in any better of a mood when they stepped into the elevator. His dark eyes fell on me through the closing doors.

Tank waved me over.

I always feel very small when I stand next to Tank. He likes me, and I know he's got a tender heart, at least where me and his cats are concerned, but he still looks like he could remove a guy's head from his shoulders with his bare hands. He handed me a manila folder. "This is all the background we've got so far. Most is public record, but we're in no man's land on the rest, so keep it confidential."

I nodded and took the folder.

The air pressure over my shoulder changed and I knew without looking that Ranger had come out of his office. I didn't turn to look at him, though. We'd kind of unofficially agreed not to talk about our personal issues. Didn't make it any less awkward.

Hal was in the elevator when the doors opened. He stayed where he was and Ramon stepped in after me. Flanking me on both sides like the president's secret service. I shot Ranger a look. He stared at me for a long second before he nodded to Hal and Ramon, calling them off. It was a small gesture, considering I was being monitored by at least one GPS unit, but it still felt like a two ton elephant had been lifted off my chest. I offered him a little smile and a finger wave as the elevator doors closed. His face was still stone, but I'm pretty sure I saw a touch of amusement leak through. Just a little.

My truck was waiting for me in the Rangeman garage. Parked in one of Ranger's personal spots. I looked up at the security camera. They would be watching in the control room. I thought about waiting until I wasn't being monitored, but it had rubbed me wrong that they'd moved the GPS unit. I wanted them to know I could find it and still be trusted. It was under the left rear quarter panel, near the wheel well. Pretty small, too. Top of the line. At least I knew they cared. I smiled up at the camera again and waved before I stepped up into my truck and pulled out of the garage. No doubt there would be a few hidden smiles in the control room.

Freedom is a glorious thing.

I decided to celebrate with an unchaperoned trip to the bonds office to turn in my body receipt and pick up my check. Parked out front with a huge sigh of relief. This day was finally starting to look up.

Lula was on the couch near Connie's desk when I came in. Connie reclined back in her office chair with her black stiletto heels up on the corner of her desk. I could see Vinnie in his office behind her. Usually he'd have the door shut. Watching fetish porn and abusing himself, or having brief romantic encounters with barnyard animals. And yes, I include Joyce Barnhardt in that. Without proper walls, though, he'd have to be on his best behavior. No way Connie would put up with anything else. And Connie had more balls than Vinnie.

The office windows started to rattle with the pumping bass from a beat up old El Camino that had pulled to a stop next to my Chevy. Before I could wonder what they were looking at, a machine gun poked out of their front passenger window and opened fire. We all hit the ground. Bullets sliced through the truck, pinging and rattling on their way through. The big bay window in the front of the office shattered. Glass sprayed over the waiting area. The El Camino's engine revved, and then it took off with a chirp of tires and disappeared.

I stood, blood rushing in my ears as I looked at the swiss cheese that used to be my truck. Ten minutes. Ten freaking minutes of freedom was all I got. Ranger would lock me down again for sure. "Sonofabitch. I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this! Goddamn piece of shit motherfucker!"

Now, I realize that I'd promised God I wouldn't swear anymore, but in all fairness if he didn't want me to swear, he shouldn't have let a car full of gangbangers swiss cheese my truck. I knew with certainty this wasn't a random act. He knew better than to do it himself, but that didn't mean it wasn't a message, loud and clear. This was from Skeezer.

"Holy shit!" Vinnie said from between the exposed wooden beams.

I rounded on my ratfink cousin. "You. This is your fault!" And before I could stop myself, I was rushing toward him. He bent backward over the desk, my hands around his throat.

"Christ, Stephanie! I didn't do anything!"

"Bullshit! You bonded out Skeezer Marquez again, you weasel!"

"It was just business! I didn't know he'd shoot up the office!"

"He didn't shoot up the office, he shot up my goddamn truck!"

"You hated that truck anyway!"

"Ugh!" My phone was ringing in the background, but I was too intent on wringing Vinnie's boneless ferret neck to answer it. He invoked Grandma Plum and Auntie Mim and I finally relented. I released his neck, dropping him back onto his desk. "You're scum, Vinnie! Scum!"

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know."

My phone was ringing again. This time I answered. "What?"

"Babe?" There was tension in his voice. "You alright? The GPS dropped on your truck."

I looked out at the Chevy. Crap. I could see daylight through the back end. "Little problem with that. It was kind of taken out in a drive by."

"In front of the bond's office?"

"Yeah. Some gangbangers in a piece of shit El Camino. I'm thinking they work for Skeezer."

"Anyone hurt?"

"Just my truck."

I could feel over the phone that Ranger wasn't happy. "Why didn't you answer when the control room called?"

"Because I was busy strangling Vinnie."

This time he almost smiled. "Lucky for him it was you and not me. Do you need a replacement?"

I had to think about that for a second. It wouldn't have been the first time Ranger loaned me a car. In fact, it was kind of a habit. Problem was I didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to giving them back in one piece. Ranger told me that he'd lost more cars to me than all his men combined. Times five. Not that he cared. He wrote off the losses in his taxes, under the line item marked entertainment.

"Thanks for the offer, but no, I don't need a replacement. Most of the damage was to the back. I'm pretty sure it'll still drive."

"Babe. Are you suggesting your gonna drive around in a truck riddled with bullet holes?"

I could hear the smile he was trying to hide. Ranger thought I was amusing. He was also right. And while it might be considered a conversation piece, it wouldn't exactly go over well with some of the people in my life. Morelli wouldn't be happy. My mother would probably have a heart attack. "I've got some savings from catching The Rug. I'll get a new one."

"Call it in when you do."

"Willdo. Wouldn't want to have me off grid for more than a few minutes, right?"

"Babe."

It was a cheap shot. One that made Ranger smile. He understood that his obsessive need to keep me on his radar screen was borderline paranoid sometimes. Of course, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't out to get you. And in my case, that was true more often than I would care to admit.