"He won't tell anyone?"

"I don't think he'll remember," Ranger said. "And if he does say something, I doubt anyone will believe him. We've been keeping him very happy."

"Do you have him drugged?"

"Quality weed, Ella's cooking, and nonstop television on a fifty-inch plasma." Ranger stood and pulled me to my feet. "Would you rather do this tomorrow?"

"No. I'll be okay."

"You don't look okay. You've got blood soaking through your jeans."

I looked down at my leg. "I should have used a bigger Band-Aid."

"Do you need stitches?"

"No. It's just a cut. I had to go through a smashed window to get out of the building."

"I'm going to ask you again. Do you need stitches?"

I didn't know. I hoped not.

"Let me see it," Ranger said.

I bit into my lower lip. This was embarrassing.

"Babe, I've seen it all," Ranger said.

"Yes, but you haven't seen it lately."

"Has it changed?" he asked.

That got me smiling. "No."

I popped the snap to my jeans and slid them down. I was wearing a lime green lace thong, which was a lot like wearing nothing.

Ranger looked and smiled. "Pretty," he said. Then his attention moved to the gash in my leg. "I know you don't want to hear this, but it'll heal faster and neater if you get some sutures in it."

We put a washcloth against the cut and wrapped my leg with surgical tape.

"Do you have any other injuries that are this serious?" he asked.

"No," I said. "This was the worst."

We went to St. Frances emergency and had a minimal wait. The kids with colds and the after-lunch heart attack victims had all been cleared out. There'd been only one Sunday afternoon gang shooting, and he'd been D.O.A. And it was still early in the day for domestic violence.

My leg was pumped full of local anesthesia and stitched. I got salve for the burns on my neck and face, and antiseptic ointment for my other scrapes and cuts.

Louise Molinowski’s was working emergency. I'd gone to school with Louise. She was now divorced with two kids and back home living with her mom.

"Who's the hot guy out there?" she asked, helping me get my jeans up over my numb leg and new stitches.

"Carlos Manoso. He owns a security agency downtown."

"Is he married?"

"He's as unmarried as a man can get."

Ranger watched me buckle myself in. We'd left the Buick in my lot and taken his Porsche turbo. It was black and new and fast, just like all his other cars, but even more so.

"Where do all these new black cars come from?" I asked him.

"I have a deal. I provide services for cars."

"What sort of services?"

"Whatever is required." He put the car in gear and pulled away from the hospital. "I'm going to take you to your parents' house so you can get your purse, and I want you to call Morelli."

Not something I was looking forward to. This wasn't going to make Morelli happy.

"What?" Morelli said when he answered the phone. Not sounding especially mellow.

"How's it going?"

"It's going not fast enough. What's up?"

"Did you hear about the fire at the warehouse on Stark?"

"No. I don't hear about anything. I'm locked away, babysitting a moron, and I'm looking at an episode of Raymond that I've seen forty-two times."

"Dickie and his partners owned a warehouse on Stark and-"

"Oh, Christ," Morelli said. 'Don't tell me."

"It burned down… just now."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Ranger took me to get stitches."

There was silence on the other end, and I imagined Morelli was staring down at his shoe with his lips pressed tightly together.

"Anyway, I'm fine," I told him. "I just got cut on some glass when I had to break a window to get out. Is it okay to talk on your cell phone like this? I mean, no one can listen, can they?"

"Everyone can listen," Morelli said. "Don't let that stop you. Is this conversation going to get worse?"

"If you're going to give me attitude about this, I'm not going to talk to you."

I looked over at Ranger, caught him smiling, and punched him in the arm.

"No one saw me," I said to Morelli. "I left before the fire trucks arrived. And it wasn't my fault. I'm pretty sure someone set a bomb. The thing is, there was a guy sitting behind a desk on the second floor, and I think he'd been toasted with a flamethrower. I doubt there's much left of him after the second fire, but Ranger wanted me to tell you."

This created a lot more silence.

"Hello?" I said.

"Give me a moment," Morelli said. "I've almost got myself under control."

"How much longer are you going to be on this assignment?" I asked Morelli.

"At least two more days. Let me talk to Ranger."

I gave Ranger my phone. "Morelli wants to talk to you."

"Yo," Ranger said. He did some listening, and he cut his eyes to me. "Understood," he said to Morelli. "Don't expect miracles. She's an accident waiting to happen." Ranger disconnected and handed the phone back to me. "I'm in charge of your well-being."

"Morelli should mind his own business."

"That's exactly what he's doing. You're a couple. You are his business."

"I don't feel like his business. I feel like my own business."

"No shit," Ranger said.

What was worse, I was caught off guard by the couple status.

"Do you think Morelli and I are a couple?"

"He has his clothes in your closet."

"Only socks and underwear."

Ranger parked in my parents' driveway and turned to face me. "You want to be careful what you tell me. My moral code stops short of 'Do not covet someone else's woman.' You've been holding me at arm's length, and I respect that, but I'll move in if I feel that barrier relax."

I already knew this, but having it said out loud was disconcerting. I didn't want to make more of it than was necessary, so I tried being playful. "Are you telling me socks and underwear are borderline in terms of couple qualifications?"

"I'm telling you to be careful."

When Ranger issued a warning, he didn't do playful.

"That's just great," I said. "I'm so not good at being careful."

"I've noticed," Ranger said.

My grandmother opened the front door and waved.

Ranger and I waved back, and I eased myself out of the car and went to retrieve my bag.

"Is that blood on your pants leg?" my grandmother asked when I stepped into the foyer.

"Kitchen accident," I said. "It's fine. Gotta go. Just came in to get my bag. I'll bring the Buick back later."

I hurried to the Porsche and angled in.

"Barnhardt is two houses down and across the street," Ranger said. "She was here when we drove up. She must have spotted the Cayenne."

Ranger rolled out of the driveway and down the street. Joyce rolled with us, staying a couple car lengths back.

"I'm taking you home with me," Ranger said. "I have to catch up on paperwork and meet with Tank, and I don't want to worry about you. You can spend the night and turn Hansen in when the court opens in the morning."

"I can't spend the night at RangeMan."

"Morelli said I should keep you safe."

"Yes, but no one's after me. I've just had some unfortunate luck."

"Babe, you've destroyed a car, burned down two buildings, stapled a guy's nuts, and you have sixteen stitches in your leg. Take a night off. Have a glass of wine, watch some television, and go to bed early."