Ranger glanced over at me. "Are you okay?"
"Never been better."
This brought another appraising look from Ranger.
"Well, maybe I'm a little buzzed," I said. "Think I shouldn't have drunk that whole drink." I leaned closer to Ranger, as he was looking very fine, and I was finding him superior to that rat-fink Morelli.
Ranger downshifted at a light. "Want to tell me about the gunfire?"
"Perin got one off. It didn't hit anybody, though." I smiled at him. Ranger wasn't nearly so scary when I was tanked on Bombay.
"Perin was shooting at you?"
"Well, no. There was this other guy who sort of didn't like Perin talking to me. And there was an altercation." I touched Ranger's diamond stud earring. "Pretty," I said.
Ranger grinned. "How many drinks did you have?"
"One. But it was a big one. And I'm not much of a drinker."
"Something to remember," Ranger said.
I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, but I hoped it had to do with sex and taking advantage of me.
He turned into my lot and rolled to a stop at the door. Major disappointment, because it meant he was dropping me off, as opposed to parking and coming in for a nightcap . . . or something.
"You have a visitor," he said.
"Moi?"
"That's Morelli's bike."
I swiveled to look. Sure enough, Morelli's Ducati was parked next to Mr. Feinstein's Cadillac. Damn. I stuck my hand in my shoulder bag and fished around.
"What are you looking for?" Ranger asked.
"My gun."
"Probably it's not a good idea to shoot Morelli," Ranger said. "Cops are real touchy about that sort of thing."
I wrenched myself out of the car, straightened my skirt, and huffed into the building.
Morelli was sitting in the hall when I got upstairs. He was dressed in black jeans, black motorcycle boots, a black T-shirt, and a black leather motorcycle jacket. He had a two-day beard and his hair was long, even by Morelli standards. If I hadn't been mad at him I'd have had my clothes off before I got to my door. Now, I realize I'd just had the same thought about Ranger, but there it was. What can I say? Pretty soon Bunchy and Briggs would be looking good to me.
"Boy, you have a lot of nerve coming here," I said to Morelli, fumbling for my key.
He took his key ring from his pocket and opened my door.
"Since when do you have a key to my apartment?" I asked him.
"Since you gave it to me back when we were friendlier." He looked down at me and amusement softened the set of his mouth. "Have you been drinking?"
"Occupational hazard. I had this job to do for Ranger, and drinking seemed like the right thing to do at the time."
"You want some coffee?"
"No way, that would ruin everything. Anyway, I wouldn't drink your coffee. And you can leave now, thank you."
"I don't think so." Morelli opened the refrigerator, searched around and discovered the bag of Mocha Java I'd bought at Grand Union. He measured out water and coffee and tripped the switch on my coffeemaker. "Let me take a winger here. You're mad at me, right?"
I rolled my eyes so far into the back of my head I saw myself thinking. And while my eyes were all the way back there, I looked for Briggs. Where was the little devil?
"You want to give me a clue?" Morelli said.
"You don't deserve a clue."
"That's probably true, but how about giving me one anyway."
"Terry Gilman."
"Yeah?"
"That's it. That's your entire clue, you creep."
Morelli got two mugs from the over-the-counter cabinet and filled the mugs with coffee. He added milk and handed one of the mugs to me. "I need more to go on than a name."
"No you don't. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
His pager went off, and he did some creative swearing. He looked at the read-out and made a call on my phone. "I have to leave," he said. "I'd like to stay and settle this, but something's come up."
He got to the door and turned and came back. "I almost forgot. Have you seen Ramirez?"
"Yes. And I want to get a restraining order and have his parole revoked."
"His parole has already been revoked. He picked up a hooker on Stark Street last night and almost killed her. Brutalized her and left her for dead in a Dumpster. Somehow she managed to climb out, and two kids found her this morning."
"Is she going to be okay?"
"Looks like it. She's still on critical, but she's holding her own. When did you see him?"
"About a half hour ago."
I told him about the repo and the incident with Ramirez.
I could see emotion bubbling inside Morelli. Frustration, mostly. And some anger. "I don't suppose you'd consider moving back in with me?" he asked. "Just until Ramirez is found."
Be a little crowded what with Terry there, too. "Don't suppose I would," I said.
"How about if I marry you?"
"Now you want to marry me? What happens after they catch Ramirez? We get a divorce?"
"There's no divorce in my family. Grandma Bella wouldn't hear of it. You have to die to get out of a marriage in my family."
"Gosh, that's cheery." And true. I understood some of Joe's attitude about marriage. The Morelli men had a bad track record. They drank too much. They cheated on their wives. They beat their kids. And the misery lasts 'til death do them part. Fortunately for many of the Morelli wives, death visited the Morelli men early. They were shot in bar brawls, killed themselves in DUI car crashes, and exploded their livers. "We'll talk some other time," I said. "You'd better get moving. And don't worry, I'll be careful. I've been keeping my doors and windows locked, and I'm carrying a gun."
"You have a permit to carry concealed?"
"Got it yesterday."
"I didn't hear any of this," Morelli said. He bent his head and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Make sure the gun's loaded."
He was actually a very nice guy. Some of the less desirable Morelli genes had passed him by. He had the Morelli good looks and charm and none of the abusive qualities. The womanizing part was in question.
I smiled and said thanks. Although I'm not sure what I was thanking him for. For being a decent person about the gun, I guess. Or maybe for caring about my safety. At any rate, the smile and the thanks were encouragement enough for Morelli. He pulled me to him and kissed me again, hot and serious this time. Not a kiss I'd easily forget, nor want to end.
When he broke from the kiss, still holding me close, the grin returned. "That's better," he said. "I'll call when I can."
And he was gone.
Damn! I locked the door behind him and thunked myself on the forehead with the heel of my hand. I was such a dope. I'd just kissed Morelli like there was no tomorrow. Not the message I'd wanted to give him at all. What about Terry? What about Bunchy? What about Ranger? Never mind Ranger, I thought. Ranger wasn't part of this problem. Ranger was a different problem.
Briggs stuck his head out from my bathroom doorway. "Is it safe to come out?"
"What are you doing in there?"
"I heard you in the hall and didn't want to screw it up for you. Sounded like you finally had a live one."
"Thanks, but he wasn't all that live."
"So I see."
* * * * *
AT ONE O'CLOCK I was still awake. It was the kiss. I couldn't stop thinking about the kiss, and the way I'd felt when Morelli had taken me in his arms. And then I got to thinking about the way I'd have felt if he'd ripped my clothes off and kissed me in other places. And then there was Morelli naked. And Morelli naked and aroused. And Morelli doing something about being naked and aroused. And that's why I couldn't sleep. Again.
At two o'clock I was no closer to sleep. Damn Morelli. I rolled out of bed and padded barefoot into the kitchen. I went through the cupboards and fridge, but I couldn't find exactly the right thing to satisfy my hunger. Morelli was what I wanted, of course, but if I couldn't have Morelli, what I wanted was an Oreo. Lots of Oreos. I should have thought to get Oreos when I was at the store.