It was pitch-black in the closet. The alarm timed out, and the house went silent.
“How will we know when the police leave?” I asked Ranger.
“There was a Rangeman car in the area. I have them watching a couple blocks away, and they’ll call when the police leave.”
His arms were around me, holding me close against him. He was warm, and his breathing was even. Mine was more ragged.
“There’s something hard poking into me,” I said.
He shifted slightly. “It’s my gun.”
“Are you sure?”
“You could check it out.”
Tempting, but I didn’t want to encourage anything that might lead to nudity and compromising positions should the police decide to break into the house and open the door to the closet. Although, the longer I was pressed against him, the less I cared about the police.
Here’s the thing about Ranger. He leads a dangerous lifestyle. He’s scarred from past life choices, and he’s dealing with serious issues. I have no idea what those issues are, because Ranger holds them private. I suspect no one will ever know what drives Ranger. What I know with certainty is that I’ll never be more than a loving amusement for him. He’ll care for me as best he can, but I’ll never be his priority. I’ve come to believe his priority is to repair his karma. And I respect that. It’s a noble priority. Problem is, while he’s repairing his karma, I’m lusting after his body. Morelli is a wonderful lover. He’s fun. He’s satisfying. He’s super sexy. Ranger is magic.
Ranger’s phone rang, giving the all clear. I moved to open the closet door, and he tightened his hold on me. His mouth skimmed along my neck. His hand slid under my shirt to my breast. And he kissed me.
“That’s not your gun, is it?” I asked him.
“No,” he said. “It’s not my gun.”
When I finally tumbled out of the closet, I was missing some critical pieces of clothing, but I was feeling much more relaxed.
“Finish your search,” Ranger said. “The Rangeman car will let us know if the police return.”
We went through the rest of the house, and just before we left, I checked out the garage. No car.
“What does this mean?” I asked Ranger.
“No way to know, but the junkyard will have a log of cars taken in. Connie can probably get her cousin to go through the log. Did you report the found driver’s license to the police?”
“Yes. I told Morelli.”
“Then I’m sure he’s there with a cadaver dog. He’s an idiot, but he’s a good cop.”
“Why is he an idiot?”
“He lets me get close to you.” Ranger glanced at his watch. “I have to go.”
We set the alarm off again when we opened the door to leave. No problem. We’d be long gone by the time the police returned.
• • •
My car and Hal were waiting for me when Ranger dropped me off at the coffee shop.
“Your car was parked at Quaker Bridge Mall,” Hal said. “The big guy was in the mall somewhere. We looked in the food court, but we couldn’t find him, so we brought the car back here. Problem is, there’s no key.”
“I have an extra key at home.”
“Great,” Hal said. “Give me a minute, and I’ll get the car running for you. You can take it from there.”
I didn’t see Connie in the coffee shop, so I waited for Hal to roll the engine over, thanked him, and drove home. I was on Hamilton when my phone rang.
“Hi,” Buggy said. “Boy, I’m real sorry, but someone stole your car. I parked it in a good spot where it wouldn’t get any dings, and it’s not there anymore. There’s just a empty space. You should report it to the police or something.”