“I'll call you tomorrow,” I told Mary Lou. “Don't worry about Ranger. He's not as bad as he looks.” Okay, so I fib now and then, but it's always for a good cause. No point Mary Lou spending the night in a state.
Mary Lou gave Ranger one last look and whipped out of the lot. I took a deep breath and ambled over.
“Where's the BMW?” Ranger asked.
I pulled the plates and the piece of dashboard out of my bag and gave them to him. “I sort of had a problem . . .”
His eyebrows raised, and a smile started to twitch at the corners of his mouth. “This is what's left of the car?”
I nodded my head and swallowed. “It got stolen.”
The smile widened. “And they left you the plates and registration tag. Nice touch.”
I didn't think it was a nice touch. I thought it was very crappy. In fact, I was thinking my life was crappy. The bomb, Ramirez, Uncle Fred—and just when I thought I'd succeeded at something and made a capture, someone stole my car. The whole crappy world was thumbing its nose at me. “Life sucks,” I said to Ranger. A tear popped out of my eye and slid down my cheek. Damn.
Ranger studied me for a moment, turned, and dropped the plates in his backseat. “It was a car, Babe. It wasn't important.”
“It's not just the car. It's everything.” Another tear squeezed out. “I have all these problems.”
He was very close. I could feel the heat from his body. And I could see that his eyes were dilated black in the dark parking lot.
“Here's something else to worry about,” he said. And he kissed me—his hand at the nape of my neck and his mouth on mine, soft at first, then serious and demanding. He drew me closer and kissed me again and desire washed over me, hot and liquid and scary.
“Oh boy,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said. “Think about it.”
“What I think . . . is that it's a bad idea.”
“Of course it's a bad idea,” Ranger said. “If it was a good idea I'd have been in your bed a long time ago.” He took a notecard from his jacket pocket. “I have a job for you tomorrow. The young sheik is going home and needs a ride to the airport.”
“No! No way am I driving that little jerk.”
“Look at it this way, Steph. He deserves you.”
He had a point. “Okay,” I said. “I haven't got anything else to do.”
“Instructions are on the card. Tank will bring the car around for you.”
And he was gone.
“Omigod,” I said. “What did I just do?”
I rushed into the lobby and pushed the elevator button, still talking to myself. “He kissed me and I kissed him,” I said. “What was I thinking?” I rolled my eyes. “I was thinking . . . yes!”
The elevator door opened and Ramirez stepped out at me. “Hello, Stephanie,” he said. “The champ's been waiting for you.”
I shrieked and jumped away, but I'd had my mind on Ranger and not Ramirez, and I didn't move fast enough. Ramirez grabbed a handful of hair and yanked me toward the door. “It's time,” he said. “Time to see what it's like to be with a real man. And then when the champ is done with you, you'll be ready for God.”
I stumbled and went down to one knee, and he dragged me forward. I had my hand in my bag, but I couldn't find my gun or the stun gun. Too much junk. I swung the bag as hard as I could and caught him in the face. He paused, but he didn't go down.
“That wasn't nice, Stephanie,” he said. “You're gonna have to pay for that. You're gonna have to get punished before you go to God.”
I dug my heels in and screamed as loud as I could.
Two doors opened on the first floor.
“What's going on here?” Mr. Sanders said.