TWENTY-NINE

It took a few seconds for me to comprehend the sight before me. Ranger with his hands all over another woman. I flashbacked to the day I'd returned home to find my then husband, Dickie Orr, getting ridden by Joyce Burnhart on my dining room table.

"So much for commitment! I guess Morelli was right," I spit, spinning around and storming out, letting the door slam behind me. I rushed toward the elevator, which mercifully still waited at this floor. I heard the apartment door open and my name called, but I ignored it.

I stepped into the elevator and mashed the door close button. Ranger made it half way to me before elevator doors slid shut. It took me straight to the parking garage. I jumped into my truck and cranked the engine, reversing out of my spot and throwing it into drive before I'd fully stopped. I stepped on the gas, the engine revving as I raced out the underground garage and careened around the corner onto the empty street.

Ranger burst out a side door, saw my truck, and stepped into the road. "Stephanie, stop!"

For half a second, I considered running his ass over. Then I applied the brake. The tires screeched as the truck lurched to a stop, barely a foot from Ranger, who held his ground.

He gave me a dark look. "Tell me you didn't just consider hitting me with the truck I bought you."

"You would have deserved it," I shouted back at him through the windshield, hysterical tears clouding my vision.

"Jesus, Steph, she's one of my employees." He still stood in the road, preventing my escape.

I saw red. "And that makes it okay!"

"I was fitting her with a wire. She got called out on a job with no one left on shift who knew how to set it up."

The anger faded slightly. I put the truck in park, but left it running as I opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement.

"That's it?" I narrowed my eyes at him distrustfully. "You were fitting her with a wire?"

"I promise you, it was entirely business."

"It's hard to believe she thought it was all business." I'd worn plenty of wires on Rangeman jobs, and I'd never felt it was 'just business' when Ranger put his hands on me.

Ranger rolled his eyes. "I'm not her type."

I rolled my eyes back. "A woman would have to be dead not to get ideas with your hand down her dress."

"Trust me on this, I'm not her type. She would have preferred your hand down the front of her dress."

It took me a few seconds to get his meaning, then I blinked in surprise. "She's a lesbian?"

Ranger nodded.

We both heard screeching tires and turned our heads toward the noise at the same time. A big, black windowless van skidded around the corner. The sliding door flew open before the van fully stopped and four men wearing ski masks jumped out.

Ranger reached for the gun on his hip and I saw panic register on his face when he realized there was no gun on his hip. He'd run out of his apartment after me without one.

"Steph, run!"

Two of the men rushed me as I turned back toward the Rangeman building. I didn't even clear the end of the truck bed when I felt someone grab me. Screaming, I kicked backwards, feeling my foot connect with something. Following a grunt, the hands released me for a second. I spun, but another set of hands pinned my arms to my sides painfully. A rag pressed against my nose and mouth and I could smell chloroform with the first breath I took. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ranger trying to fight off the two other goons. He landed a hard punch to the side of one guy's head, sending him reeling. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision. The other guy grabbed a hunk of metal pipe from the van and swung it at Ranger's head. I screamed into the rag as Ranger fell, then I succumbed to blackness.

I came to in a dimly lit space. It took a few seconds for my grogginess to wear off, and with a gasp I recalled the last few seconds of consciousness. Trying not to panic, I took stock of my situation. My hands were bound behind my back. I pulled against the bindings, fairly certain it was a pair of flexi-cuffs. A gag covered my mouth, but my feet were unhindered. I lay on my side on a pile of cardboard, with Ranger a few feet away. He faced away from me, positioned on his right side. Flexi-cuffs bound his hands. Blood pooled around his head from a large gash above his left temple.

Getting to my knees, I scooted over to him, praying to whatever entity listening for him not to be dead. When I got close, I watched his chest rise and fall with steady breaths, sending a wave of relief through my body. A gag also covered his mouth. I nudged Ranger with my knee, but he didn't wake. I nudged him harder. Still no response.

I looked over Ranger and saw a third person: Frankie Rossi. He lay on his back, his hands unrestrained at his sides and a large bullet hole between his eyes. A shocked expression remained etched on his face. From the lack of blood, I surmised he'd been killed elsewhere and dumped here.

The stench of smoke reached my nostrils. I looked around and found we were in a large warehouse. The corrugated metal walls rose at least three stories to a metal roof. A few grimy windows near the roof allowed broken rays of late afternoon sunlight into the structure. Stacks of empty wooden pallets balanced precariously against the wall nearest to us. More pallets littered the concrete floor, along with empty wooden crates and cardboard boxes. Fire consumed a huge stack near the center of the warehouse, flames shooting nearly to the ceiling.

A few pieces of burning wood slid off the stack, bumping into a cardboard box a few feet away, spreading flames toward us. I looked at the floor. We might as well be sitting in the middle of a nest of kindling.

Struggling to my feet, I ran toward the warehouse exit, a huge metal door set on a sliding rail. I pushed against it with my shoulder, it slid a few inches then stopped. I pushed against it again, hearing the clank of metal rattling outside as the door moved. Someone had chained the door shut. We were trapped like rats.

I ran back to Ranger and tried to rouse him again. He groaned softly but didn't come to. The smoke grew thicker, causing my eyes to water and burn. I coughed into my gag, unable to call out for help.

Movement caught my attention and I watched a large rat scurry away from the smoke and flames, wiggling under the pile of pallets on the wall nearest us with a squeak. A few seconds later, two more rats followed suit.

Maybe we weren't trapped like rats. The rats could evidently get out. We were trapped like bound and gagged humans.

I staggered to the place where the rats had disappeared. I could feel a tiny cold breeze stir in the area. The pallets were stacked almost ten feet high, but very poorly. I nudged the pile with my shoulder and it swayed slightly. I backed up a few paces to get a running start and rammed the pallets, shoulder first. My momentum sent them and me tumbling with a huge crash. I groaned, rolling off the broken pieces of wood. I bled from a dozen little scratches and punctures.

I rushed back to the base of the stack and found the cold air seeping into the building through a gash in the corrugated metal siding where two pieces met. It was only about a foot wide and two feet tall, but quite big enough for a rat to escape. Not nearly big enough for a person.

I leaned against the opening, pushing against the rivets on the seam. The metal bent but didn't break. I needed something with more leverage, but for that I needed my hands.

Rusty and jagged edges decorated both sides of the opening. Tetanus seemed preferable to burning alive, so I crouched down and backed up to the wall. I pressed the flexi-cuffs against the metal and moved my arms up and down, trying to saw through the plastic. I slipped, crying out into the gag as I sliced my right hand. Taking a deep breath, I repositioned my hands and went back to a sawing motion. After a few long minutes, my hands suddenly sprung apart.

A deep cut marred the side of my right hand, blood dripping down my palm and fingers. I untied my gag then used the fabric to tightly wrap the slashed skin. The smoke became so thick I couldn't see Ranger anymore. I hurried in the right direction, almost tripping over him before I saw him.

I hooked my arms under his armpits and pulled. All lean muscle, Ranger weighed a ton. I huffed and puffed, coughing from the smoke as I dragged him toward the small opening in the metal siding. I laid him gently back on the concrete.

"Ranger, come on, wake up!" I shook him and he groaned, but didn't open his eyes. "Argh! You're no help at all," I told him.

I needed to widen the opening between the two pieces of corrugated metal somehow. I pulled an intact pallet off the pile. Despite its heavy weight, I still managed to carry it over to the opening. I wedged a corner of the wood into the opening and pressed down on the end I still held. Metal groaned and a few rivets popped. I pushed harder and the pallet crashed through the opening. Breathing hard, I pushed my end of the pallet toward the wall, causing the other end to push the left half of the siding inward, widening the gap enough to crawl through.

I wrestled the pallet the out of the way and grabbed Ranger, pulling him as close to the opening as I could. Then I wriggled through on my side, tearing my clothes on the jagged edges, but emerging on the other side relatively unscathed. Ranger, on the other hand, was a lot bigger than me.

"I'm really sorry," I told him as I reached back through the opening and dragged him out. The metal edges cut into his shoulders and back as I dragged him out, into a narrow alley between two warehouses. I dropped him onto the cold concrete, falling to my knees beside him. Another round of coughing shook my body as my lungs tried to clear out the smoke. Ranger groaned and opened his eyes.

"Oh sure, now you wake up. I could have used your help ten minutes ago," I grumbled as I untied his gag.

Ranger's eyes snapped open as he fully returned to consciousness, struggling against his restraints and coughing.

"We're safe," I told him. "You're in flexi-cuffs and I have no way to get them off."

I helped Ranger to his feet. We limped out of the alley and into a broad piece of macadam in front of a line of warehouses. Paranoid, I glanced around nervously, worried the people who'd trapped us inside might still be waiting to make sure the job was done. But there wasn't a soul in sight.

I sunk to the ground a safe distance from the burning building. Ranger collapsed next to me. A black plume of smoke poured out of a broken window near the top.

"Someone's gotta see that," I remarked hopefully. The alternative meant we escaped the fire only to freeze to death. I still had the rag they'd used to gag Ranger in my hands, so I gently pressed it against the gash on his head.

"How'd you get your hands free?" Ranger asked.

I explained everything that had happened inside the warehouse since I'd woken up. Ranger kissed me on the top of my head as I finished.

"I used to think I put you in danger just by associating with you, but you manage to scare up some Grade-A crazies all by yourself."

"Except I think this Grade-A crazy might be Marcus Greenridge." And I explained everything Frankie had shared with me.

"We don't have any proof other than Frankie's word," Ranger replied. "And Frankie's dead."

"So you don't believe him?"

"Oh, I believe him. The problem is there isn't enough evidence to put away Greenridge. I suspect Frankie spilled his guts before he got his brains blown out, and that means Greenridge thinks you are a loose end. When he finds out you didn't die in this fire, he's going to come after you again."

We grew silent as we heard sirens wail in the distance.

"How bad is my head?" Ranger asked.

I grimaced. "You're going to need stitches." I looked down at my right hand. Blood seeped through the makeshift bandage. "So am I."

The first police officers on the scene were Costanza and his partner, Big Dog. Costanza looked at me, looked at the burning building, then said something into his radio. Morelli would receive a phone call in approximately thirty seconds.

Big Dog ambled over to us and cut the flexi-cuffs off Ranger. Costanza joined him shortly after.

"Before you even ask, I didn't start the fire." I told then. They listened quietly as I explained the situation, paling when I got to the part about the bullet between Frankie's eyes. Dead bodies in burning buildings made for a lot of extra paperwork.

Ranger and I sat side by side on the bench inside an ambulance when Morelli appeared. Ranger had a bandage wrapped around his head, and I had my hand dressed. The EMT's were waiting until the cops finished asking us questions before taking us to get stitched up.

Morelli shook his head when he saw us, leaning against the door of the ambulance. "I've heard a bunch of bits and pieces already, but run your story past me in the entirety."

I started with my meeting with Frankie this morning and went from there. Morelli had his face in his hand by the time I finished.

"It's like you're a magnet for this stuff," he finally said. "All Frankie had to do was keep his mouth shut, but he decides to spill his guts to you and now you're a target."

"He wanted my help," I protested. "He was scared. And I think Greenridge torched my apartment, so I was a target before."

"That's what I mean. You attract the charity cases and get dragged into their personal messes." Morelli pulled a roll of Rolaids out of his pocket and dumped a bunch into his mouth. "I'll see what I can get sorted out and meet you at the hospital. Don't leave until I get there." He told the EMTs they could take us and walked away. A few minutes later, the ambulance doors closed and we were on the way to the ER.