“I assume you still have your key fob?” Ranger asked.
“Yep.”
The key fob got me into the high-security Rangeman building, and it also got me into Ranger’s private seventh-floor apartment. In the past, I’d used the apartment when I felt I was in danger. It wasn’t a move I made lightly, because I had to weigh the danger at hand against the danger of living with Ranger.
Ranger’s cell phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen. “I have to go,” he said. “Tank and Ramon are expecting you. Ramon will bring you up to speed and then you should be able to take over. You know the drill.” His eyes moved from my face to the towel and then back to my face. “Tempting,” he said. And he left.
TWO
I DRIED MY hair and put on makeup that stopped just short of slut. I dressed in black jeans and one of the black V-neck stretchy girl-type T-shirts I had left from my last stint at Rangeman. I topped the T-shirt with a black Rangeman hooded sweatshirt, grabbed my bag, and headed out.
I stopped at the bonds office on my way to Rangeman. Connie was alone when I walked in.
“Oh crap,” Connie said, eyeballing my outfit. “You aren’t quitting again, are you?”
“No. The Rangeman job is temporary.”
“What about the stack of skips I gave you last week?”
“Ranger is going to help me.”
“My lucky day,” Connie said.
“Have you heard anything from Lula?”
“She called to say she was on her way back to the office, and she had a bucket of chicken.”
That was worth the wait. I could get lunch at Rangeman, but it would be tuna salad on multigrain bread, and it would be made with fat-free mayo. And for dessert, I could score an apple. Ranger encouraged healthy eating. Truth is, Ranger was a tyrant. If you worked at Rangeman, you had to be physically strong, mentally tough, loyal without question, and survive random drug tests. I was exempt from all those things, and that was a good deal, because the only one I could fly through was the drug test.