Disclaimer: Thank you JE for the wonderful playmates!
A/N: Thanks to Skye for all her help. But most of all, I'd like to thank you, the readers, for all the support you've shown the story. Enjoy!
The Opportunist
Chapter Fourteen
Stephanie and Ranger had just entered the kitchen of his home when his cell phone rang. Damn, she thought, he has the best luck. First, the cat had distracted her from challenging him about eavesdropping in on the conversation she had with Joe, then a quick tour of the house, and now the phone. Disgusted, she crossed over to the adjourning family room and flopped into one of the chairs. CB suddenly appeared. The cat settled herself across the top of Stephanie's feet, and then swatted one of her small paws across the toe of her shoe.
Stephanie couldn't get a feel for Ranger's conversation. The phrases 'Yes', 'No', and 'We'll be ready' didn't translate into a lot of information. Her attention drifted between Batman and Bat-beast and her frown deepened. She saw Ranger glance her way and noticed his eyes soften when he caught sight of the cat. Torn between rolling her eyes at him and kicking the cat, she settled for a long sigh.
So far, Stephanie couldn't decide if she were more impressed by the beauty of Ranger's home or frustrated by the fact that is was somehow ordinary and comfortable. She mentally reviewed the rooms they'd toured earlier: dining room – normal, living room – normal, den and library – normal, multiple bedrooms – normal as well. The minimal furnishings fit his personality, but she was disappointed there hadn't been any cool Batman secrets. Just normal, ordinary, albeit expensive and exquisite, stuff.
Ranger disconnected the call, his full attention now refocused on Stephanie. "Looks like you're a natural, Babe."
Stephanie didn't take time to think, she just narrowed her eyes. "A natural what?"
With a soft laugh, Ranger closed the few steps that separated them. He lowered and balanced himself on the arm of the chair, settled his hand on the back of her neck and drew her up to him so her mouth was close to his. "A natural with small creatures. Could be broadened to – other horizons." He angled his head down to brush his lips lightly across hers giving her no chance to ask what he meant. "Come on, we've got one more room to explore." All other thoughts flew from her mind at the opportunity to discover more of her mysterious avenger.
He took her hand and led her down a short hall on the other side of the kitchen, then reached around her, pressed his thumb against a small metal box. A soft click sounded and the door unlocked. Stephanie's mouth fell open when she looked inside. There were banks of computers lined up on the far wall, small electronic devices neatly lined up on a row of shelves next to the computers, and a red phone sat on one corner of the large, hand-carved mahogany desk. Could it be the bat-phone? she wondered. Then she thought, With Ranger anything is possible.
She let her eyes travel around the room and almost giggled. Ah ha! Personal stuff! She approached the desk with eagerness. Men usually kept their most personal items close; at least, this man would. She put her hand down on the red phone and turned to face him, not saying a word, but wriggling her eyebrows instead.
"Not a toy, Babe," he said and rested his hand on top of hers.
"Can't call Pino's and order a pizza?" He smiled and worked his fingers between hers and lifted her hand from the phone. "That wouldn't be a direct line to the White House or something, would it?"
His eyes narrowed. "Or something. Trust me, you don't want to answer this phone." Stephanie shivered; she did trust him. She raised her hands in mock surrender and backed away from it. Her focus shifted to the pictures scattered around. The first one to catch her eye was of a girl about ten years old with a smile identical to Ranger's.
"She's beautiful and she looks just like you." Stephanie turned in time to catch the last remains of a wistful smile on Ranger's face. Hmm, another facet of this complicated man's personality to explore, she thought as she placed the picture back on the desk. "How old is she?"
"Ten and going on twenty-five. She's also very smart and sneaky." Ranger reached out and arranged the position of the frame.
"Of that, I have no doubt," Stephanie whispered.
The next picture made her smile; it was Ranger, Tank, Lester, and Bobby dressed in Army fatigues and smiling for the camera. Her eyes traveled to the next picture and her eyes grew wide.
"How did you get this?" She picked up the picture and raised her eyes to his. "This was the night you took Perrin's car away." She returned her gaze to the picture secured in a dark wooden frame. It was a shot of her seated at the bar, the top two buttons of her shirt undone, the black skirt riding high on her thighs to expose a pair of long, shapely legs. Damn, she thought, I look pretty hot.
Ranger pulled her close into him. "Do you remember the man who wanted the phone number for your group sex night?" Stephanie felt her face flame at the memory. It may have been a stupid line to use, but it had kept Perrin's attention. She didn't bother to turn around; she'd heard the smirk in his voice. Instead, she broke from his embrace and made her way to the photos that hung on the wall.
There were pictures of people she guessed were family, some with Ranger in his dress uniform, and some of him in fatigues with fellow soldiers. One picture in particular held her attention; it showed Tank, Bobby, and Hector all in Speedos, and Ranger in a wet suit. She tried to decide which revealed more, the Speedos or the stretchy rubber wet suit, when her eyes drifted to, then widened at, another picture of the back of the boat. In large black letters, the name Babe was inscribed. Stephanie whirled around and glared at Ranger. "Is Babe your favorite nickname for all women?"
"No. There is only one woman I call Babe, and that's you."
"Really?" She turned to look into his eyes, her breath frozen somewhere between her lungs and her throat.
Ranger offered her a silent stare.
"You want me to believe the boat is named after me?" Ranger continued his silent scrutiny. Oh, boy, Stephanie thought, Batman's bringing out the big guns now. "What are you trying to tell me here, Ranger?"
He looked amused and stepped close to wrap his arms around her waist and draw her tight against his body. "I think you know what it is."
"Maybe I need you to stop playing games and just say it. Words, Ranger; I need the words."
His arms tightened fractionally and he gazed into her soul through her eyes for what seemed like an eternity, then finally, he spoke, "Same thing I told you before, Babe. The Batcave is forever."
Stephanie tried to calm the banging in her chest, but her heart wouldn't listen to her attempts to cajole it into submission. "You want forever with me?"
He nodded and gave her the full two hundred watts. "Yes, I do. I love you, always have, and always will."
She gave him a wide smile and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I think I'd like to tour the Bat-bed now, Batman."
sSsSs
"Boss says you and yours stay outside."
Morelli stared in frustration at the huge man. "Tank, I'm the law here. If this goes down, we need to be able to testify to it in court."
Tank folded his arms across his massive chest effectively blocking the front door of the safe house. His eyes were hard, his face blank. "Got a warrant?"
Joe cursed under his breath. "Damn it, you know I don't. Ranger and I agreed to work together on this. I trusted his word is good enough."
Tank straightened abruptly and took a step closer to Joe, the menace on his face undisguised. "His word is good. You'll get what you need. We're professionals; we've
got sound and video good to go. Clara's description of a short, petite woman matches Dickie's secretary, Cheryl, and she's probably the person responsible for hitting Stephanie over the head." We know she has a penchant for wearing wigs, so that would account for her having gray hair at the time of the murder and she'd have access to the details of Eula's will."
Joe gave a tight nod in agreement. "You can bet your ass Dickie is messed up in this, too.'
Tank stared at him for a few beats longer before he nodded in return. "That would be a good bet, so keep you eyes open for him, too. Lula, Connie and Clara are going to be inside the bus station looking for Cheryl." Tank noticed Morelli's surprised look. "Don't worry, two guys have assigned to stay close to them. Just be at the bus station and in position, I don't want any screw ups."
sSsSs
Cheryl changed into her homeless bag lady clothes and checked herself in the mirror. Just a little dirt rubbed into her face and the picture would be complete. No one would ever recognize her. Satisfied, she locked the door to her apartment and snuck out the back entrance of the building. So engrossed in her own activities, Cheryl never noticed the man hiding in the shadows.
But Dickie noticed her. Her appearance might be different, but her carriage gave her away. He waited until she'd advanced several hundred yards up the street before he followed her.
sSsSs
Behind cupped hands, the flame of Hector's lighter glowed strong and steady. His head lowered to avert the momentary brightness from his eyes. He watched the woman walk up the street and tipped his head upward to blow out a long, tight jet of smoke into the night.
The woman's disguise was good, but not good enough. She blended in with the other homeless; she'd even changed her posture, hunched over at the shoulder with slow steps. He studied her intently when she passed under the stark illumination of the streetlight. Tattered gloves covered her youthful hands and the smudge marks that decorated her face added age to the impression. What she had forgotten were her eyebrows. They were perfect, so perfect they looked out of place on her face. And no matter how she covered up her appearance, her expensive perfume wafted along behind her and lingered for several moments. Not the typical scent a homeless person left behind.
He drew deep on the cigarette while he watched her make her way inside the bus station. Dropping the cigarette onto the ground, he covered it with the toe of his black boot and extinguished it with one swift half turn of his shoe. Guarded by the shadows, he allowed the corners of his mouth to flick upwards into a nasty smile that lasted the span of a heartbeat.
sSsSs
Joe tugged the bill of the ball cap down lower to conceal most of his face. He wanted to avoid Manoso's thugs as long as possible. There was no way he was going to sit on the sidelines while Manoso ran tonight's show. Son of a bitch could kiss his ass for all Joe cared.
He hugged close to the buildings and slowed his steps when he came within a block of the bus station. Joe glanced up in time to see Hector's back as he turned to enter the terminal. The little shit had the advantage of invisibility even in plain sight. Joe's eyes searched out the object of Hector's attention. Must be the female vagrant.
Only one way to find out, Joe thought and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket and jogged across the street. He reached the bus station door just as it closed behind Hector.
sSsSs
Shit, he'd lost her. Dickie stood on the sidewalk, and then turned in all directions, trying to locate Cheryl. He figured she be stupid enough to try something tonight so he'd waited outside her apartment. The little piece of 'pro bono' scum the courts had assigned to him thought he could make a deal by sharing the rumors that a witness to Eula's murder would be apprehended tonight.
He'd almost missed Cheryl when she left her apartment complex through the back exit. Hell, in full disguise she looked just like a nasty piece of sidewalk lint.
She had to be close. Dickie's nervous eyes raked up and down the street. All of the stores surrounding the bus station were closed either due to the hour or on a more permanent basis. She had to be close.
sSsSs
"I told you to wear that old pair of tennis shoes, but nooo, little Miss Perfect had to go and wear those ratty old pumps," Lula huffed. "Girl, it's your problem your damn feet hurt. Ain't that right Clara?"
Clara ignored the bickering woman, her concentration centered solely on searching the faces of everyone they passed.
"Shut up," Connie's words hissed at the large woman waddling in front on her. "If we catch her there's no way I'm gonna have my picture taken with those nasty things on my feet."
Lula's laughter forced her to stop. "You are one crazy woman. You dress up like the maiden sister of Freddy Kruger and you're worried about how your feet are going to look in a picture? Girl, your feet probably won't even be in the picture. Now that stringy stuff you been calling hair for the past two days…" She shook with a fresh burst of laughter. "If you were a plus sized woman of color, the news camera would be your friend." Lula pretended to fuss with her matted hairdo. "You're going to look like a faded stick on the front page of tomorrow's paper."
Connie stopped to glare at Lula. "When we're finished with this don't you ever, ever speak to me again, you overzealous grease guzzler."
Lula's laughter stopped and she planted her plump hands on her hips. "Oh, so we gonna go from fashion sense to dietary habits now?" Lula continued, "seems to me you do more than your fair share of digestive demolition when it comes to donuts."
Instead of narrowing her eyes for a fight, Connie's eyes opened wide and her mouth clamped shut. Amazed, Lula turned to see what had caused Connie to turn to stone.
The horse's ass himself ran right by them.
In silent agreement, the three women hurried after him.
sSsSs
Cheryl shuffled into the bus station and darted her eyes around the inside. All night her skin had crawled with the feeling that someone was watching her every move. She'd tried to attribute it to nerves and her horrible appearance. But now, mixed with others dressed like her, the feeling had gotten stronger.
She made her way to a bench where an older man, dressed in ratty clothes, slept and sat down. She carefully scanned the interior of the bus station searching for Eula's friend while at the same time, she moved her ankle back and forth, strengthened by the feel the knife she'd hidden inside her boot. Her eyes passed over one sleeping lump to the next as she searched society's castoffs for the woman.
"Damn it," Cheryl whispered as her eyes rested on a familiar form, and she quickly dipped her head. What the hell was he doing here? He looked like a fish out of water dressed in his suit and tie among all the casually dressed travelers and ragged homeless. Damn fool must have followed her. She'd have to take care of him before she could take care of the old woman's friend.
sSsSs
Tank observed the whole fiasco from the rooftop across from the bus station. How in the hell had tonight's operation gotten so complicated? There were cops everywhere. He did not want to report to Ranger that the job had been a bust because of all the unexpected guests at this little party. Tank's eyes narrowed menacingly. Morelli had better hope they didn't meet in one of these dark alleys tonight if this job went south.
Without lowering his night binoculars, he barked into the small microphone clipped to his collar. "This has got to be Trenton's version of a cluster fuck."
"Shit," Bobby whispered back.
The door to the bus station opened and the imitation sidewalk dweller he knew to be Cheryl ran out.
"Fuck!" Tank yelled. "Grab and gag. Grab and gag."
He watched the whole mess unfold before his eyes. Bobby grabbed Cheryl, and in their momentary struggle, he heard Bobby's sharp groan of pain and then saw Cheryl drop a bloody knife.