“Close your eyes,” he said. “I'll tell you when it's done.”
I opened an eye halfway through and he quickly turned the chair so I wasn't facing the mirror. “No cheating,” he said. When he was done, he spun me around and we both stopped breathing.
It was short. Longer in the back, curling along the nape of my neck. Short enough on the sides to have my ear show. A few wispy bangs over my forehead. And the whole thing looking slightly mussed and wind tossed.
Ranger came and stood behind me, checking me out. “Cute,” he said.
“Last time my hair was this short I was four years old.”
When we were back in the car I turned to Ranger. “Is it really cute or were you just trying to keep me from shrieking?”
He ran a hand through my hair. “It's sexy,” he said. And he kissed me. Tongue and everything.
“Hey” I said. “We're not supposed to be doing that.” A smile hovered at the edges of his mouth. “Morelli told me you were all mine today.”
“That was a figure of speech. He trusts us.”
Ranger turned the key in the ignition. “He trusts you. I haven't signed on to the trust me program.”
“How about me? Can I trust you?”
“Are we talking about your life or your body?”
I already knew the answer so I moved on. “Where are we going?”
“TriBro.”
Twenty minutes later, Ranger was in the industrial park where TriBro was located. He pulled into a parking lot for a moving and storage company and cut the engine.
I looked over. “What's up?”
He reached behind me and snagged a black molded-?plastic box with a snap closure. “I'm going to wire you. I want to make sure you're safe in there.”
“You're not going in?”
“No one will talk to you if I'm along.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Ranger did the almost grin thing again. “Sometimes people find me to be a little scary.”
“No! Shocking. You ever think about losing the gun? Or dressing normal?”
He opened the box and removed a matchbook-?size recorder. “I have an image to maintain.”
I was wearing a black tank top and jeans. The jeans were hot, but they covered the bruises and scratches on my legs. Not much I could do to hide the bandage on my arm. My heart did a once over, knowing where the wire was going to get taped. “I don't think I need a wire,” I said.
Ranger pulled my shirt out of my jeans and slid his hands under the shirt. “You're not going to ruin this for me, are you? I've been looking forward to this.” He secured the recorder against my breastbone, just below my bra, with two crisscrossed pieces of surgical tape. The wire with the pin-?head microphone ran between my breasts. “Ready to rock 'n' roll,” Ranger said. He spun the Porsche out of the moving and storage lot and into the TriBro lot.
Let's take stock here. I've got my go fast, feet sneakers on and I'm wired for sound. I've got pepper spray and a stun gun in my purse. And I'm cloaked in an invisible invincible protective shield. Okay, so I lied about the shield. Still, four out of five isn't too bad, right?
I crossed the lot and entered the building. I gave a big smile and hello to the receptionist and got waved through to Andrew.
Andrew gave me the hero's welcome. “Way to go! You found him. The office called about an hour ago.”
“Yeah, but he was dead.”
“Dead or alive makes no difference to me. All right, I know that's heartless, but I didn't really know him. And you saved me a lot of money. I would have been out the bond if it wasn't for you.”