“Chipotle’s famous for his barbecue sauce,” Connie said.

I polished off a mystery chicken part and selected another. I was out of the loop. I never watched The Food Channel, and I didn’t do a lot of cooking. Mostly, I mooched food from my parents.

“What are you doing dressed up like Rangegirl?” Lula asked me.

“I’m temporarily filling in on a desk job.” I glanced at my watch. “I need to run. Ramon is waiting for me.”

Rangeman is housed in a small office building on a side street in center city Trenton. The inside has been renovated into a high-tech, self-contained, secure corporate Batcave that operates 24/7. Ranger’s private apartment occupies the top floor. Ella and Louis live on the sixth floor. The control room, dining area, and assorted offices are located on the fifth floor. And the remaining space is given over to efficiency apartments made available to some of the Rangeman employees, a gym, a gun range, meeting rooms, and more offices. The exterior façade of the building is nondescript, with only a small brass nameplate beside the front door to tell the world this is Rangeman.

I used my key fob to access the underground garage. I parked and fobbed my way into the elevator and up to the fifth floor. There were three uniformed men in the control room, watching monitors, and four men were in the kitchen area. All eyebrows raised when I stepped out of the elevator. I smiled and gave everyone a small wave and went directly to Ramon’s cubicle.

“Hallelujah,” Ramon said when he saw me. “I’m going back out into the land of the living. I hate this cubicle. The sun doesn’t shine in here. There isn’t even a window. After a half hour at this desk, I’ve got a cramp in my ass.”

Ramon had dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin, and eyelashes I’d kill for. He was a couple inches taller than me, and looked to be around my age. He had pierced ears but no earrings. Rangeman employees weren’t allowed jewelry other than a watch when they were on the job.