Chapter 10

I'd made a lot of money when I captured Simon "The Rug" Ruguzzi a little over a week ago. It had been a really high bond, and it had come with the added benefit that I didn't have to share my cut with anyone. I'd tried to offer a portion to Ranger. He'd been the primary, after all. I'd just been helping him. And he had flown all the way to Hawaii to meet up with me when I realized The Rug was there. But since we lost him in Hawaii and I was able to take him down on my own when he got back to Jersey, Ranger said I'd earned the full cut. Well, that and I'm not entirely sure catching The Rug had been very high on his priority list in Oahu, given how little motivation he showed when it came to leaving our comfortable little love nest. Maybe he thought he'd gotten everything he wanted out of Hawaii.

Turns out he almost got more than he wanted out of Hawaii.

Cripes. Better not think like that. I wasn't pregnant. End of story. Just because he's overly cautious doesn't mean I have to freak out about it.

I took my padded bank account to the used car dealer. They gave me a few funny looks when I drove up in my honeycombed truck, but they didn't say anything. Considering it looked like it had been through a firefight in a warzone I couldn't really blame them for being speechless. They were probably trying to figure out how to tell me I wasn't getting any trade-in value.

I'd never had so much to spend on a replacement car before. It kind of went to my head. And the dealer didn't help. He was very eager to put me in something shiny when he found out I was paying cash. That's how I ended up in an eight-year-old silver Audi S4. It was twice what I would usually spend. But sometimes you just have to buy yourself something pretty.

It was close to dinner time, so I decided to head to my mother's house to show off my new car, and mooch a little dinner while I was at it. I actually had food at home for once, but it was limited to family-sized frozen macaroni and cheese, cereal and tastycakes.

I'm not exactly a domestic goddess.

I pulled up to the curb and saw Grandma Mazur standing in the doorway, drawn there by the mystical force that warns of approaching offspring. She had the screen door open. Dressing in lavender slacks, a floral blouse and white sneakers. Her hair was set in prefect curls. Must have just been to the beauty parlor. I let out a sigh of relief that she hadn't found out about my minor predicament. It would have been all over the burg by lunch.

"This is a nice surprise. Are those your new wheels?"

"Yep. I had to replace the truck."

"Never found it, huh?"

"No, they did. And then it got filled with bullet holes." I thought about that for a second. "Don't tell my mother."

"Mum's the word," Grandma agreed. "Helen! Come see Stephanie's new car! It's a beaut!"

My mother appeared in the doorway behind Grandma, wiping her hands on a little kitchen towel. "Well, isn't that nice. It's very pretty."

"Don't sound so surprised. I drive pretty cars all the time," I told her.

"Yes, but they usually belong to that Ranger person. What kind of a name is Ranger, anyway? That's not a name. You're never going to find a husband if you keep spending time with men like that. What nice young man is going to want his girlfriend around someone who wears nothing but black?"

"He owns a security firm. The black is part of his image. Plus it's easy. Everything matches."

Mom shook her head and went back to the kitchen, leaving Grandma and me to follow behind. "Lena Malone's daughter is dating a nice boy she met at church. And Peggy Kennedy's girl is seeing a surgeon. Why is it that my daughter has to run around with a scary man in black who shoots people?"

"Ranger doesn't shoot people." Often. "And I don't run around with him. We work together sometimes. That's all," I said, praying my pants didn't catch fire, since I'd kind of slept with him last night. Jeez. What is wrong with me?

My mother paused long enough to look down at the tan line on my finger and shuddered. She was still having trouble with the whole posing as a married couple thing. Truth is, I've had some trouble with it myself. Ranger is strong and sexy, and he's surprisingly easy to be with. And as a lover he's flat out magic. But Ranger has issues.

My mother pushed through the kitchen door and went back to the pots on the stove. The whole house smelled like lasagna and spice cake.

"Rita Bianchi's son just finalized his divorce. He's an assistant manager down at the bank. I could give her a call, see if he wants to come for dinner."

"No. No more fix ups. Never again. The last man you tried to fix me up with turned out to be a serial killer."

"That happened one time."

"I'm not even sure if I want to get married again. I tried it once. I didn't like it."

"Nobody would have liked being married to that horse's patoot," Grandma said from behind me. "I bet if you married someone else, you'd like it better."

I had to admit there might actually be some truth in that. I'd married Dickie Orr when I was in my early twenties. Too young to know what love really is. He was the first person who asked me, and I was so excited about becoming what every Burg mother wanted me to be that I convinced myself he was my future. Turned out that future involved him porking everything that moved, including that cow Joyce Barnhardt.

Now that I'm older and a little wiser, I've come to realize that I never really loved Dickie. Not nearly. The feelings I had for Morelli and Ranger were stronger.

Not that those relationships were going anywhere either.

By the time I got back to my apartment with my bag of leftovers, I had a raging headache, fully aware that I had just traded an entire evening of peace and self assurity for lasagna and spice cake. Granted, it was very delicious lasagna and spice cake. But that didn't make it any easier when I was finally alone. Especially considering the possibility that on some strange level, my mother might be right.

Sometimes I did think about getting married again. Usually to Morelli. Being married to Morelli might be pretty nice. He was a good man and a good cop. Smart and handsome and sexy. He could be easy to live with, too. Not always, but we've had our moments. Trouble is, Morelli didn't want to marry a bounty hunter. And I wasn't entirely thrilled about the idea of marrying a cop. His job was a grim weight on his shoulders. Constant and intrusive. It was hard enough dating a guy who had to rush off in the middle of the night every time there was a gang shooting. Being married to one might not be all that fun.

Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to marry Ranger. He was even easier to live with, as long as I wasn't fighting my overwhelming urges to have sex with him. And being with Ranger would come with serious perks. Like his amazing apartment, with the expensive Zen furnishings and incredible king-sized bed with high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. And Ella. Hell, I'd marry him just for Ella. Trouble is, Ranger has secrets, and he's not particularly interested in sharing them. It's hard to have a real relationship with something like that hanging between you. That, and he hasn't asked. Never will.

Getting married again might be nice if I had the right guy. Too bad I had two and none at the same time.

I set my bag on the kitchen counter and looked in on Rex running in his wheel. He paused mid step to look up at me. "I know, I know. We've been through this before, and its getting old."

Rex's whiskers twitched in answer. I gave him a grape and an almond and nodded as if this had been a pearl of immeasurable wisdom. I pulled my files out on my messenger bag. Took them to my dining room where I had my computer set up like an office, since I never actually used the table for anything else. I wasn't the hosting dinner parties type. I was barely the having dinner type. Two spaces at one end of the table was plenty. I ate standing up in the kitchen half the time anyway.

I started with the possession with intent. Mina Velasquez. Better known by her street name Mini. Nineteen years old. No priors. Either she was new to the game or she was smart enough to have never been caught before. Considering most low level pushers start out young, I was betting it was the latter. Her bond agreement said she was still living at home with her mother. Her mother said she was staying with her good-for-nothing boyfriend. She gave me an address off of Olden. Shouldn't be too hard, considering Mini was only 5'1" and 100lbs soaking wet. I would check out the address tomorrow morning when her mother said the boyfriend was likely at work.

I flipped over to the manila folder Tank had given me. It had some weight to it. Court documents, old bond agreements, newspaper clippings, handwritten notes. Some of the notes were in Ranger's handwriting, but a lot of them weren't.

Turned out there was a lot of material and not a whole lot of information. By the time my eyes started drooping, all I'd learned was that Juan Alvarez had been arrested four times before on various drug and assault charges, went FTA three times only to have Ranger track him down and return him to the system. To date, he'd only been convicted once. An attempted murder charge. Served two years in federal prison before he turned state informant. Ranger had made a lot of notes about his habits and associates, but my eyes were itching and my brain was fuzzy. When I realized I was just staring at the marks he'd made, I decided it might be a good idea to lay my head down and rest for just a few minutes.

I woke up the next morning in my bed with the blankets tucked around me. I lifted the covers. No pants. I shimmied a little. Wasn't wearing a bra, either. I felt down my legs and was almost surprised when I found I was still wearing my underwear. Either I'd been too tired to remember getting ready for bed last night, or I'd had a nighttime visitor trustworthy enough to put me to bed without taking advantage.

I found my answer in the kitchen. A note from Ranger.

Brought you a new GPS. It's under your front seat. Try to make it last longer than the last one.

I probably should have been annoyed that he was arrogant enough to let himself into my apartment and leave me a snarky note. Then again, he'd probably seen the lights on, found me sleeping face down on the dining room table, and taken pity on me.

If Morelli had put me to bed, he would have climbed in next to me hoping for morning sex. Kind of surprising that Ranger didn't. Then again, maybe he wasn't that eager anymore, considering the trouble I almost caused him. Still might cause him, by the way he was looking at it. I guess it made it less sexy when you added real life consequences.

I read the note again. Realizing the other message in it. He'd told me where the GPS was. He trusted me.

Oh boy. That might be a decision that came back to bite him later.