I locked my apartment and followed Ranger to the elevator. We crossed the lot at a mild jog, with Bob's head bobbing up and down like dead weight. I opened the back passenger door and helped Ranger slide him onto the leather seat. Then I crawled over the front seat and buckled myself in.

Ranger tore out of the lot onto Hamilton and auto-dialed a number on his cell phone. I listened while he asked the person on the other line for the address of the nearest emergency vet and turned to look at Bob. I reached out and touched a paw. His breathing was becoming more erratic and his eyes were glazed over. I gave a dry gulp and tried to stay positive. Of course he was going to be okay. He had to be.

Ranger made a few noncommittal sounds into the phone and punched some more stuff into the GPS. "Hold on," he said to me. Then he forced the SUV into a U-turn so fast that my head jerked back. Bob looked like he hardly noticed. He coughed a little and went back to his wheezing.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked. Ranger gave me a look which made me reconsider whether or not I really wanted to know. We pulled to a stop in front of a small brick building with double glass doors. He leaned on the horn and a woman with short blonde-gray hair met us at the door. She was wearing a set of purple scrubs with Dr. Mary Walsh embroidered on the pocket and had a stethoscope draped around her neck. She led us past the reception area into a room filled to near capacity by an exam table and two chairs. There was a series of light-boxes on the right and a locking cabinet underneath. Ranger deposited Bob on the table while I bit my nails in the background.

"What do we have here?" Dr. Walsh asked. She took a pen light from her pocket and lifted up one of Bob's eyelids. Then she checked his teeth and gums. She made a few hmm sounds, listened to Bob's chest with her stethoscope, and pressed a few times on his stomach. He responded by making a strained whimper. She scratched him lightly on the head and then turned to me and said, "I'd like to run a few blood tests. And we'll need a chest X-ray. Do you know what he got into? Rat poison? Pesticide?"

I shook my head. "I don't have any of those."

Dr. Walsh nodded. "There's a reception area at the front. You'll be more comfortable there. Help yourself to the coffee. I'll check back with you soon."

Ranger wrapped an arm around my shoulders and ushered me into the waiting area. We took a seat next to a dog food display and I rested my head in my hands. "I killed Morelli's dog," I cried. "I broke up with him, and I killed his dog."

"Morelli's used to you breaking up with him," said Ranger. "And Bob isn't dead. Babe, you're shivering."

I sniffled back another crying fit and shrugged my arms around myself. I was still in my wet cami. No jacket. No bra. And it was below freezing outside. Ranger slipped out of his windbreaker and draped it around my shoulders.

"Thanks."

We waited in the reception area for a while until Dr. Walsh came back with news on Bob. So far, so good. I gave them my home and office numbers, and then forked over my Gold MasterCard and prayed it wouldn't be rejected. Ranger and I piled back into the SUV and backtracked into Trenton, taking the full twenty-two minutes this time. We pulled into the lot and Ranger killed the engine.

"Don't worry," I said, shrugging out of his windbreaker. "I'll be okay."

"I can't let you stay here, Babe."

"What? Why not?"

"Someone broke into your apartment and spiked your pizza with rat poison."

"We don't know that." Ranger looked slightly perturbed. "Okay, so it's likely. But it's not like I'm going to eat it now."

"And your shampoo? Hairspray? Lipstick?"

"I'm not going to eat those either."

Ranger rested his head on the steering wheel. "It isn't safe. Come back to the office, and I'll have someone clean your apartment tomorrow."

I thought about this for a half-second. "No," I said. "This is my home. I want to stay."

Ranger unfastened his seatbelt and stepped out of the truck.

"What are you doing?"

"Babe, it's cold. I would prefer to sleep inside if that's alright with you."

I nodded and we took the elevator to the second floor. Ranger stepped out first and walked the length to my apartment. I slid the key in the lock, turned it back, and opened the door. Everything was just as I'd left it. It was freezing inside. In all the rush with Bob, I'd forgotten to shut the windows. I hugged myself for warmth and locked the windows in the living room. Then I moved into my bedroom warily. The window in my bedroom opened onto an old fire escape. A poor woman's balcony, perfect for drying clothes in summer, or chilling beer in winter. Not so great if your apartment is routinely broken into by people who, for whatever reason, want to see you dead. A few years ago, when I'd first started this bond enforcement gig, I had awakened to find an unconscious Lula splayed across this same fire escape. She had been brutalized in the worst possible way by a psychotic boxer with a fondness for sexually mutilating women.

"Did you leave that open?" Ranger wanted to know. He made a few clicking sounds with his gun.

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

He swept past me and opened the closet. He checked under the bed and looked around for anything out of the ordinary. Then he re-holstered his Glock at his hip and closed and locked the window.

"Nothing," he said. "Whoever was here decided not to stick around."

Thank God for that. I shuffled into the kitchen and swiped a beer from the fridge. It was still sealed and popped when I opened it, so I figured the chances were slim it had been given the old skull-and-crossbones. I tipped the can up and guzzled for a few seconds. Then I turned and tapped on Rex's soup can. Nothing. I tapped on it again and Rex's nose appeared, followed by two beady eyes. He looked at me and then turned to his food bowl. It was empty, so he slunk back into his soup can

I took another swig of beer. Ranger was leaning in the doorway when I turned around.

"Where did you get that?"

"Beer fairy," I said. "Want one?"

Ranger grimaced.

"It fizzed when I opened it!"

Ranger shook his head and moved into the living room. I finished the beer, quieted a burp with the back of my hand, and tossed the can into the trash. It bounced off the side and landed in the corner. I staggered over, braced myself against the wall and bent over to pick up the beer can, and tossed it in. Something black caught my eye atop the hoard of white, crumpled Kleenexes. I leaned closer and picked it out. It was my Rangeman ID. There was a hole burned through my picture.

My blood ran cold. I turned to Ranger and said, "I think I know who was in my apartment. It was Warner."

Ranger walked over and examined the ID. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

The line of Ranger's mouth went tight. "I don't suppose you would consider going out of town for a few days."

"I don't suppose I would."

I patted him playfully on the back, walked over to the fridge, and peered inside. I felt a pang when I looked at the pizza box. What a waste of good Pino's. I could have used some pizza after a night like tonight. I opened the lid and looked inside. Maybe he didn't get all the pieces, the beer said. Probably I could scrape off all the toxins and eat the rest.

Ranger shut the refrigerator door. "Don't even think about it."

I let out all the air from my lungs and said, "I'm starving. Why did he have to ruin my pizza?"

"I don't think he was after your pizza, Babe. And I don't think he was after your dog, or your hamster."

Ranger's cell buzzed. He checked the display and stepped into the living room to answer it. My stomach was growling. I mentally berated myself for throwing out all of that good food. I opened the cabinet above the stove and felt around the top shelf. Empty, except for what appeared to have once been a rice cake, and a packet of banana-flavored instant oatmeal. I turned my nose up at the oatmeal, tossed it back onto the top shelf, and turned my attention to the rice cake. Once I deemed it inedible, I tossed it into the trash along with the empty beer can.

I couldn't remember if I had cleaned out my freezer. Probably it was a dead end, but I didn't have anything else to lose. Besides, there was the off-chance I had forgotten a frozen cheesecake, or maybe a half-pint of Ben & Jerry's. I opened the door and looked in. Nothing but a brown paper bag.

My mouth went sour. I reached out and took the bag despite my better judgment. The top was folded down neatly three times, and sealed with a large yellow smiley face. My fingers trembled as I released the seal and unfolded the bag, and looked inside.

I felt like I had been hit on the head with a cartoon mallet. There were stars dancing around. Then I felt the room start tipping, and I smacked the linoleum with a thud.

Ranger was crouching over me when I came to.

"Did you see?" I asked.

Ranger nodded. "Know whose it is?"

I shook my head. He helped me sit up and I pulled my knees to my chest. Suddenly the pizza didn't seem so important. At least, not as important as the whole not-dying thing. Someone had left a severed hand in my freezer, along with a picture of me in my purple cami. It appeared to have been taken while I was on the phone with Morelli.

"Is that offer still good?"

Ranger's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch and he nodded. Then he pulled me to my feet and set me on the couch. Sirens were beginning to wail in the background. "You should call Morelli," he said.

"Probably."

Ranger handed me his phone, kissed the top of my head, and stood in wait for the officers.

Morelli answered using his cop voice. Ten-to-one he had already gotten a call from one of his cop-buddies.

"I found a hand in my freezer," I told him.

"So I hear."

"I thought you might like to know."

"That's very thoughtful of you. Is anyone there?"

I crossed the room and leaned out the window. "Two blue-and-whites are pulling in now."

Morelli was quiet for a moment and I realized he hadn't been referring to the police. He had been referring to Ranger. I did a mental head-slap when I remembered I was using Ranger's cell phone. There were two police officers at the door by the time Morelli spoke again. When he did, the cop-voice was nearly overshadowed by a swill of testosterone.

"If there's nothing else, I could really use the sleep."

"Actually, there's more," I said. Then I told Morelli about Bob.

"Let me get this straight," Morelli said. "Vinnie assigned you to this nutcase because he figured you were a cheap and easy target, which you've just proven by allowing your apartment to be broken into, your food poisoned, and a severed hand stuffed in your freezer."

I thought about this for a moment. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

"Jesus. Just tell me you're not staying in your apartment tonight."

"Okay."

Pause. "Now tell me you're not staying with Ranger."

"I think maybe you should get some sleep."

Morelli disconnected. I flipped Ranger's cell phone closed and tossed it back to him. The police were just finishing up in the apartment. I swiped Rex's aquarium from the counter and noticed the lid was back on my cookie jar. I made eye contact with Ranger, and he gave a slight nod.

Ranger unlocked his apartment and ushered me inside. I put Rex's cage on the kitchen counter and tossed in a grape and a pinch of granola. He sucked the grape into his cheek pouch, but turned his nose up at the granola. Like mother, like hamster. I then went to the bedroom and watched as Ranger shed himself of all his peripherals: Watch, pager, cell phone, Glock, a couple credit cards and cash, neatly folded and clipped. I emptied my pockets and came up with two wadded-up dollar bills, a ponytail elastic, and the top portion of a condom wrapper. Huh, I thought.

Ranger walked up behind me and gathered his arms around my waist. He kissed his way down my neck to my shoulder, gently slipping the camisole strap down.

"I need a shower," I said. And it was the truth. I just wasn't sure what kind of shower I needed: Ice cold, or hot, with one of those hand-held shower massagers. Definitely the latter held more appeal.

"Need a hand?"

I tried to shake my head in protest, but ended up doing the nuzzling thing when his hand crept up the bottom of my shirt. "I can manage."

Ranger spun me around and kissed me. He fiddled with the buttons on my jeans while I grabbed a fistful of T-shirt, and shrugged them just below my hips. Then he did some wonderful things with his fingers, stopping right at the good part. "Still think you can manage?"

"Bastard," I breathed. I scurried away and locked myself in the bathroom. I turned on the water and waited for my heart to regain its rhythm. Sleeping with Ranger still scared the shit out of me. Funny, considering how good I'd gotten at it. I glanced around for a camera and then stepped in and lathered myself in that sweet Bulgari gel. I took one whiff and had to bite my lip to keep from making a sound. Maybe I did need some help, I thought. Maybe I needed a lot of help.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. I poked my head around the corner half-expecting to see Ranger reposed on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, and was surprised at my disappointment that the room was empty. I looked around and realized his cell phone and gun were gone, too. On the night stand, a single word had been written on a sheet of Rangeman stationary. Babe, it read.

I heaved a sigh and threw myself backwards onto the bed, and lay stretched out in my thinking position for a while. Then I got up, melted into those heavenly pink pajamas, and crawled between the sheets.

It was almost six when I woke up. Ranger was perched on the bed, unlacing his boots. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "What happened? Had to throw someone out the window again?"

Ranger turned and flashed one of his rare full-on smiles. "Something like that."

Then his eyes dropped to the pajamas. He reached over and ran a finger along the neckline, and in one fell swoop, had managed to unbutton it down to my navel.

"Soft," he said. Then he slid his hand inside. My nipples contracted, and I gasped. Ranger leaned forward and grazed his lips along my collarbone. Then he slid his hand into the pajama bottoms. That warm tension pooled in my abdomen and I worked my hips in rhythm to his fingers. I was close-so close! I was almost there!

And then his cell phone went off.

Ranger paused and I gasped. "Leave it!"

"Babe."

"I'm serious."

Ranger kissed me lightly on the lips and pushed away. He checked the display and did the tight-mouth thing. Then he clipped the cell phone to his belt and started getting dressed. Damn it.

"No way," I said. Ranger had already laced his boots and was pulling a black T-shirt over his head. "No effing way! I was just about to . . . you know!"

"Get some sleep," Ranger said. "I don't know how long I'll be."