'You watch your mouth,' Lula said. 'You're close to being roadkill. We could throw you out and run over you, and nobody'd know the difference.'

I took Third to State and headed south on State. I went one block, stopped for a light, and when the light changed, Harold Pancek passed me going in the opposite direction in his blue Honda Civic.

'Holy cow,' Lula said. 'Did you see him? That was Harold Pancek. I'd know him anywhere with his yellow square head.'

I was already in motion, making an illegal U-turn. I did some aggressive driving and got myself directly behind Pancek. Ranger's guys had been caught by surprise and were struggling to catch up, two cars back. We stopped for another light, and Lula jumped out of the Porsche and ran for Pancek. She had her hand on the passenger-side door when he looked around and saw her. The light changed, and Pancek took off. Lula climbed back into the Porsche, and I closed the gap. I was riding close on his bumper, hoping he'd get demoralized and stop. He was checking his rear mirrors, weaving around traffic, taking side streets in an attempt to lose me.

'He don't know where he's going,' Lula said. 'He's just trying to get away from you. I bet he's never been in this neighborhood before.'

That was my guess, too. We were in a poor section of Trenton, heading toward an even worse section of Trenton. Pancek drove like a bat out of hell down four blocks on Sixth Street.

I hit the brakes when Pancek crossed Lime. Comstock was one block away. Comstock was Slayerland. I wasn't following Pancek into Slayerland.

'Do we have a cell phone number for Pancek?' I asked Lula.

'Can we warn him he's in Slayerland?'

'We never got a cell for him,' Lula said. 'And anyway, it's too late. He's turned up Comstock.'

I slowly cruised a couple blocks on Lime, hoping Pancek would pop out of Slayerland. No luck. So I turned around and pointed the Porsche in the direction of North Clinton.

When we got to the station, I left Lula with the Cayenne, and I marched Rodriguez in through the front door. I know it was moronic, but I wanted the guys to see I could capture a man with all his clothes on.

It was close to five and Morelli was gone for the day. Thank God for small favors. I didn't know what to do about Morelli. Thanks to Rangers stupid shower gel, face-to-face meetings with Morelli were now beyond uncomfortable. Okay, lets be honest. It was more than the shower gel. It was Ranger. The man was deadly sexy.

And he was walking around without underwear. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I gave myself a mental face slap. Get a grip, I told myself. You don't really know for sure. Just because you didn't find any underwear, doesn't mean he doesn't own any. Maybe they were all in the laundry. All right, so this was a little improbable. I was going to go with it anyway, because the thought of standing next to Ranger when he was commando had me in a state.

Connie had closed up shop by the time I got back to the bonds office, so I dropped Lula at her car, and I returned to the RangeMan building. The black SUV followed me into the garage and parked in one of the side slots. Two of the four slots reserved for Ranger were occupied. The Mercedes and Turbo were in place. The truck was missing. I parked the Cayenne next to the Turbo, walked over to the SUV, and knocked on the passenger-side window.

Thanks for the help,' I said.

The guy in the passenger seat nodded acknowledgment. Neither said anything. I gave them something between a smile and a grimace, and I scurried off to the elevator.

I let myself into the apartment and dropped the keys in the dish on the sideboard. The sideboard also held a bowl of fresh fruit and a silver tray filled with unopened mail.

I was in the process of selecting a piece of fruit when I heard the lock tumble on the front door. I slipped the bolt back and opened the door to Ranger.

He tossed his keys into the dish and rifled through the mail, not opening any. 'How was your day?' he asked.

'Good. You were right about Rodriguez. He was open for business at the bar on Third and Laramie.' I didn't have to say more. I was sure Ranger had already gotten a full report.

'Who's getting married?'

'Valerie.'

There was a knock at the door, and Ella came in with a food tray. 'Would you like me to set the table?' she asked.

'Not necessary,' Ranger said. 'You can just leave the tray in the kitchen.'

Ella swept past us, deposited the food, and returned to the front foyer.

'Is there anything else?' she asked.

'No,' Ranger said. 'We're good for the night. Thank you.'

I couldn't believe the big bad Special Forces survival nut lived like this. Clothes washed and ironed, bed made, gourmet food delivered daily.

Ranger locked the door after Ella and followed me into the kitchen. 'This is ruining my image, isn't it?' Ranger said.

'All this time, I thought you were so tough. I imagined you sleeping on a dirt floor somewhere.'

He uncovered one of the dishes. 'There were years like that.'

Ella'd brought us roasted vegetables, wild rice, and chicken in a lemon sauce. We filled plates and ate at the counter, sitting on bar stools.

I finished my chicken and looked over at the silver tray. 'No dessert?'

Ranger pushed back from the counter. 'Sorry, I don't eat dessert. Where are you keeping your Slayer?'

'Vinnie's house in Point Pleasant.'

'Who knows about this?'

'Connie, Lula, and me.'

He reached across, unzipped my sweatshirt, and released the Velcro tabs on the vest. 'This isn't going to help you, Babe,' he said.

'Junkman shot his last two victims in the head.'

I removed the sweatshirt and the vest and put the sweatshirt back on. It had stopped raining, but it had gotten cooler.

Ranger dialed Ella and told her we were leaving. He got a utility belt and sweatshirt from the dressing room. The black nylon web belt carried a gun, a stun gun, pepper spray, cuffs, and a Maglite, plus ammo. We left the apartment, locked up, and took the elevator. There were two men waiting in the garage. I knew them both. Tank and Hal. They took a black Ford Explorer, and Ranger and I took the Porsche Turbo. Ranger was wearing the sweatshirt.

The belt was in the back.

We rolled out of the garage and cut over to Broad. It was a dark, moonless night. The cloud cover was low, threatening more rain.

The SUV's headlights stayed constant behind us. Ranger was silent, driving relaxed, his sweatshirt sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, his watch catching the occasional light from overhead streetlights.

I wasn't nearly so relaxed. I was worried that Anton Ward might have escaped. And I was worried that he might still be there. 'You aren't going to hurt him, are you?' I asked Ranger.

Ranger flicked a glance at me via the rear-view mirror. 'Babe,' he said.

'I know he probably killed a couple people,' I said. 'But I'm sort of responsible for his safety.'

'You want to explain that?'

I told Ranger how we bonded Ward out and then kidnapped him.

'Nice,' Ranger said.

Vinnie's street was totally black, not a single light burning. Ranger tucked the Porsche into the driveway, and Tank pulled the SUV in behind him.

'I can leave you in the car with Hal,' Ranger said, getting the belt from the back. 'Would you feel more comfortable with that?'

'No. I'm coming in.'

The house was quiet, but I could feel Ward's sullen presence.

He was in the bathroom, just as we left him, shackled to the toilet and sink pipe. He didn't look happy to see Ranger.

'Do you know who I am?' Ranger asked him quietly.

Ward nodded his head, checking out the belt with the gun and the Maglite. 'Yeah, I know who you are.'

'I'm going to ask you some questions,' Ranger said. 'And you need to give me the right answers.'