Smokin' Seventeen (Stephanie Plum 17)

When we were done he rolled me on top of him and wrapped the quilt around us. I drifted into sleep and was awakened by my cell phone ringing far off in the dining room.

“Let it go,” Ranger said, his lips grazing across my temple.

I glanced at his bedside clock. It was almost nine. “It could be important.”

“Such as?”

“My grandmother could have had a heart attack. Or my apartment could have caught fire.”

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nbsp; “Babe, none of those things are going to happen.”

“You don’t know that for sure. My apartment catches fire a lot.”

The phone rang a second time, and I wriggled out of his arms, picked his T-shirt off the floor, dropped it over my head, and went to the dining room to get my phone.

The message was from Connie, telling me to call her back. I touched the redial and looked down at Ranger’s shirt. It still smelled like him, and it was triggering little stabs of desire that mingled awkwardly with globs of guilt. Morelli and I had a no-commitment agreement, but that didn’t stop me from feeling guilty.

“I found out about vordo,” Connie said. “My Aunt Pauline came to visit my mother, and she knew all about it. It’s one of those old country curses. It’s supposed to make you horny. If you’ve got a vendetta going against your neighbor, you put vordo on her daughter, and she turns into a slut. You might want to lock yourself up in your apartment until the vordo wears off, or you could be tackling guys on the street. And you want to stay away from Ranger.”

“Too late for that.”

“Omigod. Where are you?”

“Rangeman.”

“I want details. I want to know everything.”

“I couldn’t possibly do it justice,” I told Connie. “There are no words to describe where I’ve just been.”

I disconnected and went back to the bedroom. The lights were low, and Ranger was naked and lounging on the bed, waiting for me to return. I did a slow scan of his perfect body.

“It’s not my fault,” I said. “It’s the vordo.”

TWENTY

RANGER’S BEDSIDE PHONE rang at seven-thirty the next morning. We were in a tangle of sweaty bed linens, waiting for our blood pressure to drop below stroke level, having moments before dispatched some high-quality passion.

He reached across me, answered the phone, and listened for a beat. He disconnected and stood. “That was Tank. Someone dumped another body on Vinnie’s lot. Didn’t bother to bury it this time.”

“Do you have an ID?”

“Not yet. It just came across the police band. I’m going to take a fast shower and go downstairs. After the second body was found I had cameras installed on the adjacent building. So with any luck we’ve got a picture of the killer. Tank sent a tech out to get the images.”

Tank is Ranger’s second in command. He’s the guy who watches Ranger’s back, and he needs no further description because his name says it all.

I sat up in bed. “Would it be okay if I take a look, too?”

“Sure. Come down when you’re ready.”

I showered and dressed in my clothes from the previous day. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, took the stairs to the fifth floor, and stopped in at the small kitchen and dining area where Ella set out a full breakfast every morning. Hot cereal, cold cereal, fruit, healthy muffins and bagels, an egg dish and a meat dish.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, added cream, grabbed a morning glory muffin, and made my way to Ranger’s office. I’m sure everyone in the building knew I’d spent the night, but no one snickered or whispered. Anything other than a friendly smile and they would have to answer to Ranger. And no one wanted to tangle with Ranger.

Ranger was behind his desk with the video pulled up on his computer. He had also stopped at the kitchen, and he had chosen black coffee, a cup of plain, fat-free yogurt, and a plate of fruit. He glanced at my cream-enhanced coffee and giant muffin and almost rolled his eyes.

“It’s a healthy muffin,” I said. “I’m pretty sure it’s got carrots in it. And I got a lot of exercise last night. I deserve this muffin.”