Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum 11)

Ranger took two headsets and a box of ammo and put them on my shelf. “We'll start with basics. You have a nine-millimeter Sig Sauer. It's a semiautomatic.”

Ranger removed the magazine, showed it to me, and shoved it back into the gun. “Now you do it,” he said.

I removed the magazine and reloaded. I did it ten times. Ranger did a step-by-step demonstration on firing. He gave the gun back to me, and I went through the process ten times. I was nervous, and it felt stuffy in the narrow room, and I was starting to sweat. I put the gun on the shelf, and I took off Morelli's sweatshirt.

“Babe,” Ranger said. And he pulled his key fob out of his pocket and hit a button.

“What did you just do?” I asked him.

“I scrambled the security camera in this room. Hal will fall out of his seat upstairs if he sees you in this outfit.”

“You don't want to know the long story, but the short story is I wore it to annoy Morelli.”

“I'm in favor of anything that annoys Morelli,” Ranger said. He moved in close and looked down at me. “This wouldn't be my first choice as a work uniform, but I like it.” He ran a finger across the slash of stomach not covered by clothing, and I felt heat rush into private places. He splayed his hand at my hip and turned his interest to my workout pants. “I especially like these pants. What do you wear under them?”

And here's where I made my mistake. I was hot and flustered and a flip answer seemed in order. Problem was the answer that popped out of my mouth was a tad flirty.

“There are some things a man should find out for himself,” I said.

Ranger reached for the waistband on the spandex pants, and I shrieked and

jumped back.

“Babe,” Ranger said, smiling. I was amusing him, again.

I glanced at my watch. “Actually, I need to leave the building for a while.”

“Looking for another job?”

“No. This is personal.”

Ranger pushed the button to unscramble the surveillance camera. “Wear the sweatshirt when you're on deck in the control room.” “Deal.”

A half hour later, I was idling across the street from Stiva's. The hearse and the flower cars were in place at the side entrance. Three black Town Cars lined up behind the flower cars. I sat and watched the casket come out.

Macaronis followed. The flower cars were already loaded. The cars slowly moved out and drove the short distance to the church. I saw no sign of Spiro. I followed at a distance and parked half a block from the church. I had a clear view of the parking lot and the front of the church. I settled back to wait. This would take a while. The Macaronis would want Mass. The parking lot was full and the surrounding streets were bumper-to-bumper cars.

The entire Burg had turned out.

An hour later, I was worrying about my cubicle sitting empty. I was getting paid to do computer searches, not hang out at funerals. And then just as I was thinking about leaving and returning to work, the doors to the church opened and people began to file out. I caught a glimpse of the casket being rolled out a side door to the waiting hearse. Engines caught up and down the street. Stiva's assistants were out, lining up cars, attaching flags to antennae.

I was intently watching the crowd at the church and jumped when Ranger rapped on my side window.

“Have you seen Spiro?” No.

“I'm right behind you. Lock up and we'll take my car.”

Ranger was driving a black Porsche Cayenne. I slid onto the passenger seat and buckled up. “How did you find me?”

“Woody picked you up on the screen, realized you were following the funeral, and told me.”

“It'll be ugly if Morelli finds out you're tracking his SUV.”

"I'll remove the transponder when you stop using the car.

“I don't suppose there's any way I can get you to stop tracking me?”

“You don't want me to stop tracking you, Babe. I'm keeping you safe.”