Chapter Thirteen

The engine thrummed under my body as the Porsche cut through the night. Powerful and sexy. Two words that described Ranger to perfection. He fell silent on the drive. In his zone. But I knew when his hand came to rest on my exposed thigh that at least a corner of his thoughts were still on me.

He pulled the 911 Turbo right up to the curb when we got to the old brick building downtown. I heard once that it used to be a steel mill, but that was a century ago. It had gone through a lot of transformations since the early 1900s. Its most recent incarnation was one of the hottest nightclubs in Trenton. A neon sign on the brick façade that read TONIC was the only change the new owner had made to the exterior aside from a few multi-colored lights around the sidewalks and entrances. The line to get in was wrapped all the way around the block.

Ranger angled out of the Porsche and walked around to my side to open my door, leaving the keys in the ignition. He offered me a hand and lifted me out of my seat. I was about to ask what he was doing when a man in black slid behind the wheel. Rangeman valet parking. And a fair indicator that we had backup. Yep. Definitely a work date.

Not that I'd complain. Most of our dates involved breaking and entering.

Ranger looked like he was thinking about smiling. His arm moved around my waist, holding me against his body as he led me toward the front doors, bypassing the line. If anybody waiting was upset about that, they didn't voice their objections. Ranger was a stunning physical specimen in his black slacks, button up shirt and sports coat. I knew the sport's coat was to hide his gun. There would be a Glock tucked discretely into the small of his back. Another in an ankle holster under the cuff of his slacks. And an army issue tactical knife clipped over his hip. Ranger never went anywhere unprepared.

The bouncer was a tall, bald black man with a broad chest and biceps bigger than my head. He looked like he would fit in well with Ranger's men. Black t-shirt, scowl and all. Ranger gave him his name and the man glared down the list a moment before he unclipped the velvet rope and let us in. I cut my eyes to Ranger and he smiled without explanation.

Ranger was charming. And he was beautiful. But he could be infuriating sometimes.

The inside of the building had been gutted, leaving most of the space empty between the second floor balconies that bordered the room on all sides. I could see people lounging on couches and chairs up there. Watching the festivities from the supervisor's deck. It looked like a couple hundred people were crowded in the center of the floor in the washes of color that changed with the pounding tempo of the music, moving and grinding in a feral display of pure instinct. There was a long, black bar under each of the balconies to serve the masses. I could also see waitresses in little black dresses moving around the edges of the room.

Ranger's eyes scanned the second floor. Looking for something. He seemed to see it too because the edges of his eyes crinkled just a little. The predator was amused. I followed his gaze and saw a small party occupying a lounge on the upper level. There was a large man standing at the edge of the balcony. Hard to see much else about him, other than the stylish tan suit and peacock blue vest that stretched over his belly. And the fact that he was watching us.

A waitress in a tight black dress came up to us with a tray. "Compliments of Mr. Thatch."

On the tray sat two shot glasses of caramel-colored liquid. Tequila, probably. Ranger looked up at the big man again and lifted the glass off the tray with a nod. I took mine too and the waitress disappeared into the crowd again. The man toasted in return and threw back the shot. I held up my glass like Ranger had and was about to drink, figuring it would be rude not to, when Ranger caught it and took it from my hand. "Babe."

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow. For a second I thought it was because of my lousy alcohol tolerance, but the way he was looking at me told a different story.

I rolled my eyes so big I almost fell over. "I'm not pregnant!"

Ranger wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close, his lips grazing my neck on their way to my ear. "By my count you're seven days late," he said, the vibrations of his voice doing way more to me than the pounding music. "Unless there's been a development I'm not aware of."

"No," I barely managed. And not just out of embarrassment. He was only an inch taller than me in these shoes, moving everything in line so that I was pressed against him in all the right places.

He paused a second before he kissed my neck just below my ear. The sensation shot straight down to my doo-dah. "Then you'll understand why you're sticking to water tonight. No matter who offers otherwise."

"Uhn. Fine. I probably shouldn't be drinking on the job anyway, right?"

He pulled back enough that I could see his smile. "True. It's never a good idea to put yourself at a disadvantage. Especially if you can't hold you liquor."

"One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor."

"Babe, I've seen you drink. You'd never make it passed two." He handed the shots to a pair of college students that were walking past us. They accepted the free alcohol from a random stranger like it was a windfall. Ranger's hands slid down my back and over my ass, holding me firm against him. "About that dancing."

I let my arms move around his neck for balance, since my knees were thinking about getting mushy. "Are you going to tell me now that you don't dance?"

His mouth quirked up in a half smile. Pretty sure it was because of the quiver in my voice. "No," he said, cutting a brief glance at the balcony. "I was gonna tell you that this place is owned by a man named Archibald Thatcher. Known to the less savory elements of society as Baller Thatch. He has a varied portfolio, but the investment we're interested in is his position in the marijuana trade. I recognized his mark on the merchandise at Mini's place. I've had dealings with Thatch before. The direct approach might get us in, but it's not likely to get him talking. He is, however, a connoisseur of vices. And he has a weakness for beautiful women. Applying pressure in just the right area will keep him off balance, and off balance keeps him talking."

"So I'm running distraction on him?"

The smile I got in answer was feral. "He doesn't stand a chance."

Ranger's hold on me tightened and my breath caught when he brushed his lips across mine. My feet left the ground. I hardly noticed. Not until he set me down in the midst of the flashing lights, his arms still around me. Now, I'm not the most graceful dancer. I have decent rhythm, and I move pretty well, but I'd never thought of myself as particularly erotic. The second I started dancing with Ranger, though, any thoughts of what it looked like to other people flew out the window.

Ranger is magic in bed. He has an incredible animal instinct. Knows just how to guide my body and follow my lead at the same time to the point where it was hard to tell who's leading who. Every encounter was a melding of mind and body on a level I didn't even know existed. Like a language all its own. Dancing with him was like that with clothes on.

I could feel his hands on me. His lips touching my neck when the rhythm moved me near enough. He took control of my hips, anchoring me to his so that I could follow his footwork. And then he grasped my arm and spun me around in an effortless circle, my skirt flaring out bright red around me, and when he caught me against his chest again, pulling me into the safe harbor of his embrace, I forgot the room and the people and the music and I just held onto him, every inch of his warm body rubbing up against mine. I kissed his neck and he pulled me tighter until his leg slipped between mine, tipping me back. My hair was dangling and he was leaned over my half exposed breasts, like he might take me right there on the dance floor. He brushed a light kiss on my chest and I swear I lit on fire. When he lifted me up again there was no space between us.

"We've got company," he breathed into my mouth.

How he could have kept enough wits to still be watching the room was beyond me. I wasn't even sure the world still existed, let alone the room. His lips touched mine in a kiss so brief you'd think it would feel more friendly than erotic. You'd be wrong.

A man in a shining copper suit came to a stop beside us. He was lean like a pencil, his black shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest to show a sparse studding of curly black hair. His cufflinks were shining black too. Like the satin band that ran around the rim of his copper fedora. He adjusted his cuffs as if he thought the movement would catch our attention. Ranger was still holding my gaze. Making no effort to look at the man. The guy cleared his throat. "Mr. Thatch would like to extend an invitation. To you and your lady friend."

"Tell Thatch I'm busy."

The guy shifted on his feet. Not used to being denied. He glanced up at the railing for a second before he turned back to us. I'd caught the obvious 'go on' gesture from the man above us, but I couldn't pull my eyes away from Ranger's blackened gaze to spare him even the smallest glance. "Mr. Thatch would like to show you the full measure of his hospitality."

Ranger's hand was on my ass again. He leaned his head to the side to nuzzle my neck, kissing the sensitive skin. I threaded my fingers through his hair to encourage him and felt his tongue touch my throat. The guy in the copper suit shifted again.

"The lounge is comfortable. And private," he tried.

This time Ranger considered it. He cut a glance at the man in the copper suit. Then up at the balcony before he looked at me. "What do you think, Babe?"

I shrugged big enough that it would be easy to see from the balcony. It was a bonus that the movement puckered the front of my dress, giving anyone above me a glimpse down my cleavage. "Might be fun."

The man looked relieved. He gestured toward the stairs at the end of the room. Ranger kept an arm around my waist as we followed him, his hand on my belly. Every time we paused to let people pass, my back ended up against his chest, his warm lips on my neck. We'd never been so intimate in public before. At least not in Trenton. It was a little unsettling in a thrilling kind of way.

The lounge was at the top of a long iron staircase. Black leather sofas and bench seats were set back from the railing, creating a cozy area that did seem to have a bit more privacy than the other lounges. It was up a level, too. Giving us a clear overlook of the whole club. The king's view from the mountaintop. Ranger slipped his hand around mine and lifted it to guide me onto a narrow loveseat in the back corner. His attention didn't change. He stayed focused on me when he sat beside me, easing an arm around my shoulders so that he could pull me close. His fingers were tracing light lines along my shoulder, his other hand on my thigh.

A robust figure approached and took the chair next to us. I could feel the man's eyes caressing me, but that was second to the sensation of Ranger actually caressing me. "Damn, Ranger. I've had your name on the list since I opened the place, but I figured it was just a courtesy. As serious as you are, I never thought you would show for anything but business, let alone bring such an exquisite companion. Is this your woman?"

"She is tonight," Ranger said, skating his fingers across the top of my leg. "Babe, this is Baller Thatch. He owns the club."

I looked at the robust man and offered him a hand. "It's nice to meet you."

He grasped my fingers and laid a kiss on my knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you."

Baller Thatch didn't look like a hardened criminal. His face was a little lecherous, with the way he was oogling my goodies, but underneath that I didn't see anything malicious. He looked like a man who knew how to have a good time. Encouraged good-time having in others. But he didn't strike me as a bad man. He finally lifted his eyes to mine and I saw recognition. Stupid Vinnie.

"You're the bounty hunter."

"Stephanie is a bond enforcement agent," Ranger said, finally looking at him.

"And is that why you're here?"

Several more people had gravitated toward us, taking seats around the ring like spectators. A pair of women in shining mini dresses were perched on the arms of Thatcher's chair. He put an arm around each, giving them the same caresses I was getting from Ranger. Just with half the attention, since he was still watching me.

"She is supposed to pick up someone you might know. Mini Velasquez is FTA. But that was only part of my motive, if you catch my meaning."

"I do indeed. And it's a rare sight to see Ranger when he's engaged in something other than being a hardass. I have to say, I like this side of you. You should bring it around more often."

Ranger's fingers slid just a little higher on my leg, causing very real sensations to skitter up my body. "It's all about opportunity."

"I can drink to that," Thatcher said. One of his guys took the cue and dropped several shot glasses onto the table. A second later, one was handed to me. Ranger took it from my hand and set it deliberately back down on the table. Several people were surprised. Including Baller Thatch. "What's the matter?" Thatcher asked. "I thought you all were here for a good time."

"Stephanie has a low alcohol tolerance. If she has too good a time here, she won't be any fun later."

The guy in the copper suit got a real kick out of that. "Well, fuck. Wouldn't want to get in-between you and your pussy."

Ranger turned a hard stare at him, but Thatcher got there first. He smacked the guy hard up the backside of his head. "Show some respect. You don't speak about a fine female like that. Especially in front of Ranger. Not unless you want your ass handed to you."

The man mumbled something that sounded a lot like "Sorry sir." Thatch tossed his head toward Ranger and me and the man deflated a little more. "My apologues."

That didn't lessen the intensity of Ranger's glare. "Maybe we could lose the audience," he said to Thatcher. Thatch nodded and waved a dismissive hand. His entourage retreated, leaving the three of us alone in the semidarkness.

"You'll have to forgive Darnell. He's my sister's boy. Doesn't always think before he speaks."

"At least you're teaching him some manners."

Thatcher sighed, slumping back in his seat, still eyeing us. "Speaking of manners, I don't buy for one second that you're just here to have some quality time with your lady. The Ranger I know doesn't do public displays of affection. In fact, the Ranger I know doesn't do fun at all. Which means you're here for other reasons."

"I can multitask," Ranger said, turning his attention back to me with a predatory smile. His fingers searched higher on my thigh. He laid a lingering kiss to my temple and I turned to look at him. Our eyes held. His dilated black. I was betting it wasn't just because of the dim light. "But, since we're here. You wouldn't happen to know the whereabouts of Mini Velasquez, would you?"

"Not at the moment." Thatcher's words faltered when Ranger leaned in an inch and kissed me. Tongue and everything. Like Thatcher wasn't even there. It must have been a sight to see big bad Ranger doing something so human, because Thatcher seemed to forget how to speak for a full second.

Ranger pulled back just a little, his lips still touching mine. "When was the last time you spoke with her?"

"Yesterday. She had some concerns about my employment related insurance policies."

"As in?" Ranger asked, tipping his head to the other side to focus on my neck. I curled my fist into his shirt to pull him closer. I heard it when Thatch paused to wet his lips. Like he was watching porn.

"As in does it cover a bullet in the head."

"Someone's after her?" I asked, looking at him at last. It didn't stop Ranger from pushing my hair back to reach deeper on my neck. I had to focus extra hard to keep from dissolving into a puddle.

"Hard to say. These are dark times."

"Because of the tainted product coming up from Mexico."

Thatch wet his lips again. Torn between the matter-of-factness of my statement and the voyeuristic fascination. "I have no knowledge of that. My hands are clean."

"I know," I assured him. "Only high quality local organic, right?"

Ranger's attentions lost some of their depth. I'd surprised him. Thatcher seemed taken aback too. "You a client of mine?"

"No, but I have friends. It can't be good for business to be competing with such cheap product. Lots of it, from what I hear."

"You hear a lot," Thatch said absently. "And that isn't healthy these days. Even for Ranger's woman."

"Is that why Mini's laying low? She knows too much?"

"Mini had some unfortunate associations that seem to be causing her some trouble. Ending up in a cell wouldn't improve the state of her affairs, if you know what I mean."

That wasn't good. If Mini had a target on her back, it would make bringing her in more difficult. I glanced at Ranger and saw the withdrawn hunter underneath the obvious heat. He was thinking the same thing I was. "Who's she hiding from, aside from me?"

"You think I can give you a name?"

"I think you can give us more than a name," Ranger said, tracing a line across my shoulder and onto my collarbone. His fingertips flirted lower onto my breast, drawing Thatch's attention back to my chest. I had to admit, this was a hell of a lot more pleasant than my usual distraction jobs. I set a hand on Ranger's thigh and both men reacted.

Thatch took up the shot his nephew had poured for me and dropped it back. It went down like water. "You'd be wrong," he said. "Way things are going, names will get me or my people killed."

"There's some bad movers," Ranger said. Thatch hesitated before he nodded.

"How many of the suppliers are in bed with the cartel?" I asked, taking a wild stab. "Is it just the one?" Thatch's eyes got round. I was getting warmer. "I know you want to protect her."

"Sweet baby, I'm not even sure I can protect myself. My business has increased recently, as I have a reputation for keeping my merchandise premium. Lots of customers are seeking out something safer after they've been burned. There are certain parties who don't like that."

"Like Delgado," Ranger said.

"Not just Delgado. Romero, Marquez, Cruz. There's been rumblings in the wings across the board. And not just on the one side. One of my runners was telling me the establishment is turning its eye this way. I'm just trying not to get caught in the crossfire."

"The establishment?" I asked, looking to Ranger.

He lifted the curls from between us, caressing the edge of my ear. "Organized crime families."

"The mob?" He nodded. "Is there likely to be crossfire?"

"If Grizzoli or Colichio feel their toes are being stepped on?" Ranger said.

Thatcher nodded in agreement and I got an icky feeling in my stomach. "So who's upsetting the balance? Do they know what'll happen?"

"I don't know. You shouldn't want to know either. It's bad business," Thatcher said, cutting his eyes to Ranger. "You're woman's traveling in circles she shouldn't be."

"She's her own woman," Ranger said, resuming his attention. "And you should answer her while she's asking nicely. I've seen what she does to men who piss her off."

That must have meant something, coming from Ranger, because Thatcher paled.

"I don't have any more answers than that. I'm a legitimate businessman. And while a small part my business might not be legal, I do try to stay ethical. I only employ responsible people. Who only sell to consenting adults. My customers don't mind paying a little extra for high quality. Mostly me and the other elements of society coexist peaceably. But Mini. She's a girl of delicate sensibilities. It didn't sit right with her that someone was tainting the market. Started asking questions." He met my eyes. The lecherous look was gone. Replaced by dark shadows, mixed with real concern. "Trouble's brewing. You don't want any part of it. Trust me."

There was a commotion downstairs. Thatcher's phone rang. He glanced at the railing before he retrieved it. He uttered a conversational "Fuck," and looked up at Ranger. "Seems my guest list just expanded to include key members of the Trenton Police Department."

I got a sinking feeling and followed Thatcher over to the railing. Several uniforms were flooding in through the front doors downstairs, and right in their midst stood a figure I knew very well. He turned like he'd felt me staring and our eyes held. Joe Morelli. Shit.