NINETEEN

Ranger led me to his Porsche 911 Turbo, which he'd parked in the far reaches of my lot. I looked back at my building. Smoke still drifted lazily out the windows as the fire crew switched to clean up mode.

"I should probably call my mother so she doesn't worry," I said as I slipped into the passenger seat. Ranger handed me Rex's aquarium and his cell phone. I dialed my parents' number and waited for someone to answer.

"Hello?" My mother's voice sounded heavy from sleep.

"Mom, it's Stephanie."

"Oh my god, what's happened?"

"I wanted to let you know there was a small fire in my building this morning."

My mother went dead silent for a tick. "Someone shot a rocket into your apartment again, didn't they!"

Someone shoots one little rocket into your apartment just once and you never live it down. Jeez. "No, Mom. No rocket. Just a little fire in the hallway. It didn't even start in my apartment. But I'm fine. I got Rex out, too. My cell phone's battery is dead, but I should be able to get it charged in a little bit. Okay?"

"So, I take it to mean you are out of your apartment for a while? Are you staying with Joseph?"

"No, I'm staying at Ranger's place."

Dead silence again.

I decided it was best to end the call before an argument could start. "Anyway, just wanted you to know I'm safe and not to worry. Love you. Bye." I handed Ranger his phone back.

Ranger pulled out of my lot and surprised me when he pulled into a Dunkin Donuts a short time later and ordered two large coffees and half a dozen donuts from the drive through.

"Donuts?" I asked as he pulled up to the drive through window.

"Are you complaining?"

"No. I never complain about donuts." Ranger passed me the box and I balanced it on top of Rex's cage and ate a French cruller then and there. "Donuts make everything better."

We parked at Rangeman and Ranger took Rex and the donuts under one arm, holding his coffee with the other. I carried my coffee in my left hand and followed him into the elevator. I got Rex settled into his temporary home on top of Ranger's kitchen counter and I helped myself to another donut. To my utter shock, Ranger selected a plain glazed one and took a bite.

"You're staring at me," he said. "And not in the good, I want to tear all your clothes off, way."

"You're eating a donut," I whispered.

"I'm aware."

"I've never seen you eat a donut."

Ranger rolled his eyes. "Now you have."

"And last night you ate a bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and half a piece of lemon meringue pie."

"And?"

I fidgeted. "I gave you my blood."

Ranger paused half way through his donut, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Are you seriously suggesting that your blood might cause me to crave junk food?"

"Maybe. For all we know, I could have some undiscovered blood disease that causes me to need foods high in saturated fat."

"Babe, the only disease you have is called lack of self control."

I finished off my donut and took a sip of coffee. It was after five now, so there was no point in going back to bed. Might as well get a highly caffeinated start to the day. Not that I knew what to do with it. I looked at my bandaged right hand. "This is going to put a serious dent in my bounty hunting abilities for the next few days."

Ranger nodded. "Hard to cuff a skip with just one hand."

"I have a hard time with two hands."

Ranger's mouth curved into an amused smile. "Since you're not going to be able to catch any skips for a bit, you want to come with me to Miami this weekend?"

"Miami?"

"I have some Rangeman business to attend to Saturday morning and my cousin is getting married Saturday afternoon. You could be my plus one."

"What about these?" I wriggled my left hand so that the wedding rings caught the light.

Ranger shrugged. "They don't bother me. Just don't tell anyone they're from Walmart."

"I mean, what will we tell your family? They might be a bit curious about why your date is wearing wedding bands."

"Some of my family wouldn't be surprised if I showed up with a married woman on my arm," he replied and I couldn't tell if he was serious or joking.

"It's going to be awkward."

"It's going to be eighty and sunny all weekend. And the wedding is on the beach."

Oh, the beach! "When do we leave?"

Ranger smiled. "We fly out Friday night."

"Friday? That's tomorrow!" The full extent of everything I'd lost finally set in. I sighed. "Everything was in my apartment. My clothes. My laptop. My purse, wallet, I.D. And you want me to fly to Miami tomorrow night? This sucks."

"It could suck more," Ranger said softly, pulling me into him. I leaned my head against his chest and silently agreed. Neither one of us wanted to think about what could have happened if Ranger hadn't arrived when he did. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you need a shower," he added.

I sniffed at my hair and grimaced. I reeked of smoke. I pulled away from Ranger and looked at my bandaged hand. "This will be interesting."

"I can help," Ranger offered.

"I don't think so. I fell for that once already."

Ranger grinned at me. "I'm actually offering real help."

I gave him a skeptical look.

Ranger sighed. "Babe, climbing your fire escape was all the physical exertion I'm up for today."

"Omigod, you hurt yourself rescuing me, didn't you?"

"I'm fine. Just sore."

I narrowed my eyes at him. Ranger didn't turn down sex for no reason. "I'd appreciate your help, and then you are going to lay on the sofa and rest."

Ranger dug around in a kitchen cabinet and came back with a plastic, gallon sized Ziplock bag and a rubber band. He put the bag over my bandaged hand and used the rubber band to secure it to my wrist.

"Why do I feel like you've done this before?"

"Because I have," he replied with no further explanation, leading me to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and while the water heated up, he stripped off my clothes.

"I think you are enjoying this a bit too much," I remarked as his fingers trailed along my bare skin as he lifted my shirt over my head. Little tendrils of fire followed his path.

"I never said I wasn't going to enjoy it, Babe. And it looks like you are too."

I followed his gaze to my chest. My nipples were hard.

"I'm just cold," I lied as I stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind me. I stood under the hot water for a few minutes, enjoying the feel on my body. I used my left hand to uncap the bottle of shampoo and then just poured some straight onto my head. I returned the bottle to its shelf and used my left hand to massage the suds into my hair.

Next, I lathered up a loofa with a generous dollop of Bulgari shower gel. I could reach most of my body, except my back and my left arm, one handed.

"Can you wash my back?" I asked Ranger.

Ranger pulled the curtain aside, his eyes scanning my body for a few seconds before he motioned for me to turn around so he could scrub my back. He gently washed my left arm too, before handing the loofa back to me and closing the curtain.

I enjoyed the steamy shower for several more minutes before turning off the water. I grabbed a towel and dried off behind the curtain, then wrapped the damp towel around myself. I pulled the rubber band and plastic bag off my right hand, placing the rubber band in the bag and putting them both on a shelf near the back of the shower, to use later. Then I stepped out.

Ranger remained in the bathroom. He had his shirt off, carefully taping a square gauze bandage over the bullet wound on his left side. A blood-soaked bandage lay discarded in the trash can.

"You said you were just sore!"

"Relax, Babe. I just cracked open the scab. It's not bleeding anymore."

The bandage on his back, where the bullet had exited his body, had blood on it too. "You need help with the one on your back? It needs changing too."

"It's not pretty. You won't faint or anything, right?"

"I knelt in a pool of your blood, watching you die. This is just a little blood. I can handle a little." At least, I felt fairly confident I could handle a little blood.

Ranger handed me a thick gauze square covered in antibiotic cream with an expression I couldn't place. He ripped off several pieces of body tape and hung them off the edge of the sink. I carefully peeled the old bandage off, trying not to gasp at the crusty wound underneath. I gently placed the fresh gauze square on his back, held it there with the back of my bandaged right hand, and used my left to tape off each side. My left hand's dexterity already seemed to be improving.

"All done," I announced, more for myself than for Ranger. I deserved another donut for not fainting.

Ranger turned to face me, pulling me close and kissing me gently. One hand gently cradled the nape of my neck, the other held my waist firmly. Our tongues touched and I moaned. Ranger pulled away.

"I'm taking a rain check on this," he told me.

"It's not raining."

"The shower was close enough."

Oh boy. Something to look forward to. I tried not to think about what would happen if I was still living here when Ranger recovered enough to call in the rain check.

I went into his closet and found clothes. I hesitated to call them my clothes, because they'd never been mine. I hadn't purchased them and they'd never been in my closet. Everything that lived here was purchased by Ella, and embroidered with Rangeman, even the underwear. And it was all black. I pulled on a pair of black cotton undies and bra, then a pair of black jeans and black t-shirt. I borrowed one of Ranger's black hoodies, rolling up the sleeves so it fit.

I emerged back into the bathroom. "Any chance you still have that pink toothbrush I used Saturday night?"

Ranger opened the door to the cabinet under the sink, revealing a brown wicker basket loaded with women's toiletries. "With your track record, it seemed a safe bet that at some point you'd be here with nothing more than the clothes on your back. So I had Ella pick some things up to keep here for you."

"You're the best." I pulled out the basket and found it full of the necessities: hair brush, comb, blow dryer, elastic bands, hair spray and gel, mascara, lipstick, chap stick, emery boards, deodorant, floss, toothpaste, toothbrush, and a box of tampons.

I emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later feeling more human. I'd blown dry my hair and brushed it, but had no choice but to let it fall loose, as there was no way for me to put it into a pony tail with only one hand. I'd managed to brush my teeth and put on deodorant left handed, but skipped the makeup. I figured I'd just end up poking out an eye attempting to apply mascara with my non-dominant hand.

Ranger had settled on the couch, feet outstretched and laptop open on his lap, checking e-mails. Plugging my cell phone in to charge nearby, I sunk into the matching armchair and flipped on the TV.

A little after eleven that morning, my now fully charged cell rang. I saw Morelli's number on the screen.

"Hello."

"Hello. Just thought you'd like to know that the fire department is done with your building. The fire marshal took one look at the second floor and declared it arson. Classic signs of accelerant being used all over your door and surrounding walls. Disaster cleanup crews are already there to mop up and they're letting residents in to collect valuables."

"Is there anything left from my apartment to collect?"

Morelli fell silent for a few seconds and I knew that didn't bode well. "I think your bedroom remained more or less untouched by the flames." His tone didn't inspire confidence.

"What about the bathroom?" I asked, fingers crossed. I hated the out of date bathroom, but like the Buick, it seemed impervious to damage.

"It needs a new door."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. It's like there's a force field or something around it. It's actually a little creepy."

"I'll be right over." I hung up.

Ranger was already standing. He went to the kitchen and pulled a box of black garbage bags out from the cabinet under the sink and handed them to me. "What we think you can salvage we'll pack in these and bring them back here."

We climbed into one of the Rangeman SUV's and drove the short distance to my apartment building. The fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances were all gone. The Red Cross van remained in the lot, but their tent had disappeared. A line of neon green SERVPRO vans parked by the back entrance. Several people, in identical neon green polo shirts, went in and out carrying wet vacs and huge box fans. Morelli stood waiting off to the side. Dillon Ruddick, my building's super, stood next to him.

Morelli and Ranger barely acknowledged the existence of the other. They were very capable of working civilly together on matters of business. When it came to matters of me, it was a different story.

"Sorry about your apartment," Dillon said to me. "As soon as I heard the alarm this morning, I grabbed the extinguisher and ran upstairs, figuring it was your place again. But the whole wall was already in flames, and it was all I could do to keep the stairs clear until everyone got out."

"I'm just happy no one else got hurt," I told him.

I steeled myself and followed Morelli into the building. Water dripped through the first-floor ceiling and the carpet squished with each step we took. The air still smelled strongly of smoke. We followed an extra-long extension cord and the sound of a wet-vac to the second floor. I stopped dead in my tracks.

A charred set of wooden studs were all that remained of the wall between my kitchen and the hallway, giving me a clear look into my destroyed kitchen. The cabinets were blackened, appliances nothing more than melted globs of skeletal metal. My door lay flat on the floor, leaving just a blackened doorframe.

I swayed and suddenly two different men grabbed me. Morelli's arm snaked around my shoulders, while Ranger placed a calming hand against the small of my back. I looked up in time to see each man glare daggers at the other. If it weren't for the stench of smoke in the air, I probably could have smelled the testosterone.

"The insurance adjuster will be here tomorrow," Dillon told me, drawing my attention back to him. Neither Morelli nor Ranger broke contact with me. "Then we can start putting the pieces back together. It might not be until mid February before you can move back in, though."

I felt a hot flash at the thought of spending a month in Ranger's apartment. Chances were good he'd recover fully from the gunshot wounds well before mid-February. As soon as they caught Fortecelli, I would move in with my parents.

"You'll need to clear out anything you want to save," Dillon added. "The entire place will need to be re-carpeted and repainted." He checked his watch. "I gotta go back downstairs. Mrs. Whidecker should be here any moment and she needs assistance getting things out of her place."

I gasped as Dillon walked away.

"What?" Morelli and Ranger asked simultaneously.

"I just remembered. Yesterday, Mrs. Whidecker cornered me in the lobby, asking if I had work done on my apartment. She heard hammering in the morning. That must have been when my window got nailed shut."

"I'll pass it along to Marsh," Morelli replied. "He can talk to the other residents. Maybe someone saw the guy."