I thumbed through the file Ranger had handed me. Montgomery Ward, yes, I SWEAR that's his name, had a rap sheet as thick as my wrist. His file was so long, it came in it's own folio box. How the hell did these guys get back on the street? OH, wait, my cousin Vinnie, that's how, and a little dumb luck. But Montgomery Ward was a mystery. By all accounts he should have reached habitual criminal status years ago, theft, assault, burglary, but here he was staring back at me from his mug shot.

Ranger once told me "you have to trust the system." Instead, I cursed the system and trusted in Ranger and quit trying to figure out how the system had allowed this scum back on the street again. He was going by the name Monty Warren. Skipped out on a million dollar bail in Florida. Warren had committed armed robbery then crossed state lines in a stolen vehicle while holding the driver hostage.

"Babe, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Why not?"

"It's gonna be a hostile environment."

"You mean more hostile than usual?"

"We think he's gonna be at Chicas Locas."

"And?"

"And it's a strip club."

"That doesn't bother me."

"It's amateur night, I know from personal experience you're not a lesbian Babe, so the most likely reason you would be in the strip club alone would be to enter the dance contest."

"You mean, like, take my clothes off?" I squeaked.

"No, the strippers union put an end to that. Now the amateurs have to be clothed but…"

"But what?" Ranger didn't usually hesitate.

He had a far off look in his eye and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Just, they usually," but he didn't finish the thought.

"What?"

"Nothing Babe."

"Oh no he didn't," I thought, now I was curious. "What do they usually do?" I asked?

"The contestants usually dress pretty skimpy and you'll be surrounded by a bunch of horny men," somehow I didn't think he was telling the full story.

"Oh, well, then it'll be just like going to work," I smirked, "I'm in."

I drove home to prepare for my debut as an amateur non-stripper. Something in Ranger's voice had given me pause. But it was often that way with Ranger. Does he want me to stay or go? Was he jealous? Did he really mind? Would he rather someone else do the job? What I did know was Rangeman's take would be $50,000, of which I would get $5,000.

I could survive a strip club for a few hours for $5,000. Heck, in Trenton you're just as likely to get groped at the supermarket.

When I was showered and shaved I wrapped myself in a towel and started perusing my closet. "Amateur dance night at a strip club, hmmm?" I'm thinking somewhere between trailer trash and sorority girl. Montgomery Ward liked young and slutty. I couldn't do much about the young part, although I thought I held my age well. I decided I would need to act young and show some major cleavage.

I choose some cute little daisy dukes that basically looked like a pair of denim underwear, and a blue metallic tube top that had a little built in underwire bra that formed into a deep "V" in the front. I used a little mousse to pump up my curls and added a wide belt, bangle bracelets and big rhinestone hoop earrings. Since I might be dancing, I decided on strappy espadrille wedges, high and sexy but comfortable.

At 8:45 I opened the door and looked down at Ranger just as he was bending down about to pick the lock. One of these times I would catch him in the act and find out how he did it exactly, but not tonight. When I opened the door he turned his head up and was staring into my chest.

"Ready Babe?"

"Do I look ready?" I asked.

He stared at my ample cleavage for a beat. "No, but I can wait while you put the rest of your clothes on."

"Very funny," I said, "let's go."

On the ride over Ranger was instructing me about Monty Ward, where he would be and where the guys were stationed. Usually, four men would easily handle this type of take down, but not in this case. This had been the only public place Ward was known to frequent, in part because of the huge crowd. Ranger said it allowed Ward the ability to remain unnoticed and to slip away in the crowd if he needed to. I just had to get Ward out to the parking lot and the guys would take it from there. The crowd and the multiple exits were reason for concern, so six Rangeman guys were scattered about.

We pulled into the lot and parked around back. Ranger produced a wire and some tape and hesitated as he studied my tube top. At first he reached up as though he were going in from the top, then he reached down as though he might go under. "A little help here Babe," I reached both hands down and lifted my tube top up revealing the bottom halves of my breasts. His face looked all business as he was taping the mic to my rib cage, but his eyes were dark and his breathing was just a tad faster. His hands lingered longer than usual on the underside of my breasts. I cleared my throat and he smiled. I lowered my top and he pressed on the wire to see that it was secured. The last thing he did was hand me a speaker for my ear. "I want you to wear this as well, since it's so crowded. You'll be able to hear the entire team. "Ready?" I shook my head and he exited his car headed the opposite direction.

Chikas Locas was a sprawling strip club, a maze of rooms set inside a big rectangular box. The main south entrance opened up to two rows of pool tables that spanned the entire width of the large room. Beyond that was a large seating area with square tables set about leading up to a dance floor equal in size to the seating area. Various platforms, poles, and cages were scattered throughout, no doubt for the usual entertainment venue. To the east, a bar ran the length of the room servicing the dance floor, seating area and pool hall. Across the room were hallways that led to private party rooms and restrooms. A velvet curtain hung as a backdrop to the dance floor. In the corner were swinging portal doors that led to the kitchen. There was a second level with a balcony that overlooked the dance floor from all four sides.

I took my time walking through the crowd. I could hear the guys in my earpiece shootin' the shit with one another, saying hello to me when I passed them. I just bobbed my head hello and kept walking. Most of the tables in the large room were taken and the dance floor was packed. Some loud Euro techno music pulsed around me and I could see Bobby and Cal at a table flanking the dance floor. To the right, at the far end, Lester stood with his back leaning against the bar perusing the scene. Hal was along the opposite wall covering the exits to the party rooms and chatting up one of the security guards.

I sauntered up to the bar and smiled shyly at Lester. "Well, hello darling," he said in a low throaty voice, his eyes drinking me in. "What's a sweet young thing like you doin' in a place like this?" I gave him a slight smile and walked a few feet down and sat with an empty bar stool between myself and Monty Ward. The perp turned and gave me a once-over.

Ward was in his mid thirties, a lifetime ago he could have been the high school quarterback, but now he just looked tired and run down. He had an unruly mop of dark hair on the top of his head, and his eyes were hollow and dark. His outfit, FILA sportswear, was expensive but outdated. His watch was gold, but probably stolen, since it was a little worn and sized to a much bigger wrist. He took another drink and studied me from behind his raised glass. I pretended to check my phone as I heard a familiar voice in my left ear. "Alright, everyone's in place. Babe, can you hear me?" I scratched my temple. "That's the signal, let the games begin."

I pretended my sandal needed buckling so I turned toward the empty barstool and put my foot up on the seat. I leaned over and pretended to adjust the strap giving Ward a view strait down my tube top. If my shorts hadn't been so tight he probably could have seen my thong too, and I could see he was straining awfully hard to get a peek.

When I repositioned myself, the bartender placed a drink in front of me. "From an anonymous admirer at the bar," he said. I took a sip, and it was only Coca-Cola so I knew it was Lester, but I scanned the bar then turned to Ward with an innocent look on my face. "Did you buy me this?" Ward was a little surprised, but he saw the opening and slipped right in. "I thought you looked thirsty," he lied. "Well thank you, you didn't have to do that." "No I didn't, but I bet you could get me to do all kinds of things I didn't have to do."

I batted my lashes and giggled at him but inside I was doing a mental eye roll. "I'm Stephanie, Stephanie Pepper." "Monty Ward, what brings a sweet thing like you out to a place like this." My earpiece buzzed. "That fucker stole my line."

"Santos, that line's as old as dirt," someone scoffed.

"Silence!" Ranger barked.

"Well, I heard there was a dance contest, but I don't really think I'm in the same league here. It's pretty obvious, I'm not a stripper." "Oh, you don't have to be a stripper. Naw, in fact, they want amateurs, you know, like you. In a few minutes the D.J.'s gonna announce that any woman interested in the contest should come up and dance, then they pick 5 girls, and they each get to dance to a song of their choice." He seemed to relish in his knowledge of the event. I had barely noticed he had scooted onto the empty stool between us. "Wow, you seem to know a lot about it." I acted a little tipsy and gave him a smile. "Sounds like fun. Maybe I should freshen up, just in case I work up the nerve, huh?" My shorts were tight, and I really did have to pee. "Save my seat?" I asked. "I'll be right here," he oozed.

I stepped gingerly through the crowd and I spied Ranger by the entrance next to the pool tables. Most of the club was dark, but light was coming from above the tables and I could see him clearly. I kept heading toward the restroom.

"Babe, you're not really gonna enter the dance contest are you."

"Why not," I asked, "you don't think I have a shot."

"Not what I said Babe, but we need to wrap this up ASAP."

"And that's what I'm doing. He's scanning the whole time I'm talking to him. He won't fall for something easy."

"Your call, Babe, you're usually right about these things."

I finished my business and returned to my seat and the D.J. came over the p.a. loud and clear. "Alright Locos. Now it's time for what you've all been waiting for. Chicas Locas Amateur dance competition! We need everyone to clear the dance floor for a moment. Now ladies, if you think you've got what it takes to be in our contest, when the next song begins just get your ass out on that dance floor." I could see the emcee now, he was dressed in a bandito outfit with a mask, flanked with ammo belts and carrying a bull whip. "Calling all girls, nice and nasty. We need 5 contestants. Come with your man, come with your girlfriend, or just come all by yourself, heh, heh, heh."

"Would you like to dance?" I asked Ward, jumping up from the stool and pulling him with me. "O.K." he chuckled, not taking his eyes off my chest. I led him out to the dance floor, faux fondling him all the way to check for weapons. I doubted he carried a glock down the front of his pants so I was pretty sure he was turned on by my probing.

After an 8 minute extended play version of Party Rockers by LMFAO, I found myself on the short list of dance contestants. The dance floor was cleared and I stood in line with the other four contestants. I was sneaking a peek at the competition and I started to panic a little.

"The crowd applauded and it had the feel of a WWF main event. I swear the emcee was going to say "Let's get ready to rumble." O.K. now, listen up you pendejos, as you know, these fine ladies have a few rules they must follow tonight." A collective boo went up from the audience. "Yes, I know, the dancers must remain clothed the entire time and no members of the audience are allowed to fondle the merchandise. But just to make it interesting," there was a drumroll. I was starting not to like the sound of the crowd and I sensed the audience knew the punch line, but I hadn't heard the joke yet, "we've added our own little wardrobe requirement." A look of horror crossed my face as the D.J. held up a small, white, paper-thin v-neck tee-shirt, and a super-soaker water gun the size of a bazooka.

I heard a little murmuring and laughter in my earpiece. The crowd broke into cheers and applause and I thought I was going to hyperventilate but I composed myself and turned to the skip. "You naughty boy, did you know about this?" I asked Ward innocently? "Sweetheart, every man in the tri-state area knows about Chicas Locas Amateur night, this is actually tame. Last week the contestants had to dance with a donkey, and the week before the contestants were paired up with male strippers wearing chaps and thongs. Sometimes they hand out naughty nurse uniforms." "I think I'm gonna need another drink."