Lean Mean Thirteen (Stephanie Plum 13)

Ranger circled the block and found a parking place on a side street. We left the car and walked to where Tank was idling. We stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the building. Lights were on in units A and A. Curtains were drawn in A.

“It has to be the third floor,” I said. “I was in every apartment, and I can't see any of the others as a possibility.”

“I told Rufus I'd wait for him to clear before I made a move, but this feels off,” Ranger said.

“What do you want to do with Gorvich when you find him?” I asked.

“I want to talk to him.”

A car careened onto Jewel half a block away and screamed past us, going in the opposite direction. Two men in the car. The passenger in shadow. The driver was the blond muscle guy.

Hal was half a block behind with his foot to the floor. Tank jerked away from the curb, hooked a U-turn, and Tank and Hal disappeared down the street in pursuit.

Ranger and I ran to the building and took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. I smelted the gasoline before we even reached the top of the stairs. It was mingled with cooked meat and forest fire.

Ranger didn't bother with the locksmith tool. He put his foot to the door and crashed it open. Smullens girlfriend had moved fast. The apartment looked completely cleaned out, with the exception of a large upholstered couch. Probably too awkward to get down the stairs on short notice. Either end of the couch was intact. The middle of the couch was charred. And the two bodies sitting on the couch were charred. The wall behind the couch was burned black.

“This is just like the warehouse,” I said. “Someone's doused this apartment with gasoline. There's probably a bomb in here somewhere.”

Ranger grabbed me and shoved me out of the apartment. “Go to the second floor and get everyone out of the building.”

I flew down the stairs and started banging on doors. I had two apartments empty and was on the third when Uncle Mickey hustled down the stairs with Ranger behind him.

“Go to the first floor,” Ranger said to me. “I'll finish up here.”

We had everyone on the street and sirens were wailing in the distance when flames shot out of the windows to A. The fire raced through the structure, and Ranger and I ran to the neighboring building and made sure everyone evacuated.

The police cars were the first on the scene and then the fire trucks and paramedics. I was relieved to give the disaster over to the professionals and fade away into the crowd of bystanders. I was sweating from horror and exertion and the heat of the fire, and I was shivering with nervous energy.

Ranger pulled me into a shadow and wrapped his arms around me. I held tight to his open jacket and tucked my face into him, trying to get my teeth to stop chattering. Ranger wasn't trembling, and he wasn't sweating. His breathing was measured and normal.

“Breathe,” Ranger said, his voice soft against my ear. “Try to breathe deeper.”

His calm washed into me, the shivering and chattering stopped, and tears rolled down my cheeks and soaked into his shirt.

“I f-f-feel like an idiot,” I said to him.

“It's just a letdown from the adrenaline rush.”

“Why aren't you letting down?”

“My body is more efficient at producing and using adrenaline.”

We stood like that, locked together, for a couple more minutes, until I stopped crying. Finally, Ranger looked down at me. “How are you do-ing?”

“I'm good.”

“I want to talk to Tank,” Ranger said. “Stay with me.”

“I'm pooped. I thought I'd go sit in one of the cars.”

Ranger took my hand. “Not yet. I don't want you out of my sight.”

“Afraid I'll burn down another building?”

“Afraid you'll get arrested.”

Five men in RangeMan black stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of us. Tank and Hal were among them. Ranger dismissed all but Tank.