“Is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hot coming to get us?” Lula asked after I put my phone back into my pocket.
“Yep.”
“Even better than stealing a car. That man is fine.”
• • •
Lula and I were sitting on the curb when Ranger eased to a stop in front of us in his black Porsche Cayenne turbo. I slid into the seat next to him, he studied me in the dark car, and he almost smiled.
“Babe,” Ranger said.
Babe covered a lot of ground with Ranger. I was guessing tonight it meant I was a mess.
“We got involved in a demonstration,” I said.
When Ranger was working as a bounty hunter he’d had a diamond stud in his ear and his hair pulled back into a ponytail. He’s a businessman now, and he’s always perfectly groomed and tailored. No more diamond stud and no more ponytail. Today he was wearing the Rangeman uniform of black fatigues.
“And some loser took my Farrah wig right off my head,” Lula said. “That’s why I don’t look completely put together.”
Ranger flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror and returned his attention to the road. Twenty minutes later he dropped Lula at her house. He waited until she walked inside and closed her door before turning to me.
“You have the beginnings of a black eye, your shirt is ripped, and you look hungry,” Ranger said. “Where do we go from here? Would you like to come home with me, or do you have other plans?”
I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. “I suppose I have other plans. I should go back to my apartment.”
Ranger drove in silence. Never a man of many words. More of an action kind of guy. He pulled into the parking lot to my apartment building and looked up at my windows on the second floor.
“Did you leave your lights on?” he asked.
I gave up a sigh. “Diesel showed up today.”
“And?”
“And I’m guessing he’s still here.”
“Would you like me to remove him?”
“No. I’ll take care of it.”
“Babe,” Ranger said. “You don’t want to get involved with Diesel.”
“No problem. Not a chance.”
He looked down at the license plates that were resting on my lap. “They left the plates behind?”
“Yep.”
“Thoughtful.” He leaned in and kissed me, being careful of the eye. “I’ll have one of my men drop a car off for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll try not to lose it.”
“If you can manage to keep it intact for a week, it’s yours. If it gets stolen, blown up, crushed by a garbage truck, set on fire, filled with cement, or dies an untimely death by any other means, I’ll expect you to spend the night with me.”
I got out of his Cayenne and watched him drive away. It would be tempting to blow the car up myself.
• • •
Diesel was slouched on my couch, watching television, when I let myself into my apartment. He stood and stretched, his shirt rode up exposing his perfect abs, and I sucked in some air. I had too many men in my life. And none of them were doing me any good.