Chapter 45—First Fight
Saturday, May 15 (still)
Ranger's POV
Fighting back unfamiliar emotions, I raced down the steps and leapt over the railing as I neared the last floor. I almost dropped on top of Stephanie standing over a writhing, prone Falcone. She had his gun in her hand and she grinned up at me, looking pleased with herself.
Relief flooded through me. I wanted to hold her, I wanted to shake her, but we weren't out of the woods yet. I briefly reached out and put my hand on the back of her neck needing to touch her without either of us losing focus.
Kneeling, I whipped out a pair of cuffs and started to pull Falcone's wrists together when Steph cried out for me to stop. "Please be careful with him. He's injured." She knelt down at the man's feet and ran her hands lightly over his ankle. "He fell down the stairs and probably has a sprained ankle. He can't stand on it."
Falcone's eye widened. "You're with him, bella?" He laid back, groaning and bending his leg up against his chest. "I can't catch a break." His ankle was already swelling, but it didn't look broken.
She looked over at a muttering Falcone, and with concern in her voice asked, "Would you like some ibuprofen? I have some in my purse." Falcone's mouth dropped open as he stared at her.
I pulled his wrists together and cuffed him, and noticed he still couldn't take his eyes off Steph. "Is she for real?" he asked. I couldn't help grinning at his surprise over Steph's hot and cold behavior as I patted him down, but my grin quickly changed to cold anger. He was a walking arsenal. If he'd thought Steph was a threat to him, he could've killed her at anytime. My stomach clenched.
I told Steph we needed to get him into the car and out of town ASAP. I pulled Falcone up and supported his weight while dragging him into the lower level parking lot where we'd left the BMW less than a half hour ago.
As I hauled him across the underground garage, he kept yelling for his men and complaining loudly about his ankle, his voice reverberating around the enclosed space. I would have decked him, but Steph was being so solicitous of him, I figured she'd be furious with me if I injured him more.
But even Steph was losing patience with him and his loud whining. As soon as I dumped him into the back seat of the BMW, she snatched the stun gun from my utility belt and zapped him.
"Babe, you sure know how to make my day," I grinned.
I secured the unconscious Falcone and at Steph's insistence, I wrapped an ice pack from the emergency med kit around his ankle. As Steph and I got in the car, she kissed me, "You're a good man, Carlos. Thank you."
I pulled her to me for a brief hug, touching my forehead to hers. I wasn't used to worrying about another person and the thought of losing Stephanie now that I'd found her, scared me. Not an emotion I was familiar with; not one I liked.
Roaring out of the parking lot, I headed the BMW for the expressway, glad to get away before anyone found us.
"Boy, that was close. Are they following us?" Steph asked, turning in her seat trying to see if anyone was coming after us.
"No, Babe. I left Rodriquez guarding Falcone's two henchmen. I need to call him with instructions and then talk to Tank."
"Who's Rodriquez?" Steph asked.
"Frederick Rodriquez is RangeMan's accountant who happened to be enjoying a night in Atlantic City, much like we were trying to do. He's the man who spotted Falcone and called it into the office. Unfortunately, he has no training in weapons, combat or anything physical and he can't weigh more than 90 pounds soaking wet."
I knew Rodriquez was nervous being left alone to deal with two cuffed mob men, casino security and then the Atlantic City police. I called and gave him a game plan and was surprised at the military precision with which he answered my questions and requests. Guess he'd learned something being around all my men the past few months. He assured me he could handle casino security and the police when they arrived.
Then I called Tank and explained the situation, asking him to walk Rodriquez through what would be happening and how to steer events so the police understood why a man without a weapons license was holding a gun on two men. It was going to be messy for RangeMan no matter how we spun it. Tank said he'd meet us at the U.S. Marshal's office in Trenton. We had a long drive ahead of us and I knew I had to address what just happened.
"Babe, this takedown obviously didn't go well. Normally, I'd never try such a maneuver without several other trained men, but we were lucky." I blew out a long breath of air, trying to release some of the tension that had built up in me worrying about Steph, especially after the arsenal I took off of Falcone.
"I can't count on luck to keep you safe, Babe. Do you see why I didn't want you to engage Falcone directly? He's a dangerous man and if he hadn't taken a fancy to you, he probably would have tried to injure or kill you, even if just to slow me down. For all future jobs, please, Babe, follow my instructions to the letter." My fear of losing Steph was slowly easing, but that had been too close for comfort.
Steph stiffened and looked out the window, anger radiating from her. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself enough not to escalate the situation. I wasn't used to dealing with women and knew proceeding with my usual brusque style wouldn't be wise.
"Stephanie, you did very well given the difficult circumstances. I know Falcone approached you, and with a normal distraction when I'd have more men posted, your getting him out of the casino would have been a good move. This takedown was just too unpredictable. It was my fault, Babe. I should've pulled you out of there before you left the floor."
Steph turned to stare at me with her eyes narrowed and a frown on her face. Her voice started out low and even, but rapidly rose in volume.
"You're saying I messed up? You're saying I almost cost you this arrest?" Her breaths started coming quicker. "You told me this was an important arrest, one you couldn't afford to lose. When he suggested we leave the casino floor, I thought getting him out of there would be safer for everybody. And now you're angry with me and I don't understand why."
I tried to explain, "I'm not angry with you…"
"Like hell you're not! And don't interrupt me." Her arms were flying around the small space, bumping into the door and roof of the car as she defended her actions. "I know I shouldn't have hit him, but he surprised me with his grabby hands. During Lester's self-defense classes, Les kept harping on the need to strike first. When I felt his hand pinching my butt, I overreacted. He seemed like such a gentleman, I wasn't expecting to be groped. Then, when you rushed us near the elevators, he tried to protect me from you, even though I'd just belted him across the jaw." She gave me a weak smile.
Steph continued, a softer, pleading entreaty in her voice, "I was so scared for you. You had three guns pointed at you and I was afraid you'd do something rash to protect me." She brought her hands together, clutching and reclutching them. "When Matteo dragged me to the stairs, I couldn't yell for you because I was afraid it would distract you and those two mob guys would shoot you. I did the only thing I could. I removed one of the threats to you by going with Matteo. I thought I was doing the right thing."
Damn, she felt the need to protect me? I must have let my badass image slip too much the last few days. Too much Carlos, not enough Ranger. I reached for her hand, bringing it to my lips and kissed her palm. "Babe."
I suddenly realized, "Matteo?'" Was Steph already on a first name basis with the mobster? She'd make friends with a rattlesnake if given the opportunity.
Glaring at me, she explained, "What? He asked me to call him by his first name. Are you telling me I can't do my job and still be polite to people?" She huffed a little. "We were going down the stairs and I knew he was heading for his car, with me in tow, so I yanked the gun out of his hand. Matteo lost his footing and tumbled to the landing below. He yelled in pain when he tried to get up and then pleaded with me to help him get to his car. He still believed I was just a bar floozy or some silly female. And then you came bounding down the stairs. I'm sorry I blew it."
She pulled her hand from mine and shrunk into her seat. She no longer looked angry; she looked miserable. Steph normally denied any of the crazy things that happened around her were her fault. This was the first time I'd heard her accept responsibility, but she was definitely not to blame. This one sat squarely in my hands. Seemed like we were both trying to appease the other.
"Steph, you didn't blow it. You kept your head. You kept the situation from getting worse. I'm proud of you, Babe." I wanted to pull over, lift her into my lap and hold her tight, but we still weren't out of danger, not until Falcone was in federal custody. I settled for rubbing her neck.
"We're going to have to cut our vacation short and head straight for Trenton. The sooner we turn Falcone over, the better I'll feel."
"OK," Steph agreed. "What about our stuff, and my car?" she asked in a quiet voice. I think I'd prefer her yelling at me than this quiet, subdued Stephanie.
"We'll come back for them later or I'll send my men. I need to get Falcone into the feds before his people realize where he is."
"His people? You mean the Mob?"
"Yeah, Babe, 'nuff said, OK?" looking over my shoulder to a twitching Falcone.
To her credit, Steph kept quiet all the way into Trenton, which I know was hard on her, but Falcone would wake up from being stunned soon and I didn't want him to know anything else about us, especially about Stephanie.
With luck, his people would have enough troubles dealing with the feds to worry about who actually turned him in. I know, wishful thinking. That's Steph's influence on me, I guess.
When Falcone woke up, he wasn't happy. His ankle still hurt, so Steph gave him some painkillers. Then he tried to negotiate his release. From his questions and responses, I gathered he thought I was from another 'organization' and had kidnapped him.
I explained I was a bond enforcement agent and had the legal right to arrest him and turn him over to the authorities.
He looked relieved and offered me a huge sum of money to forget the whole thing. I didn't answer him. He doubled his offer, saying since I was a mercenary I had a price, I just had to name it. When I still didn't respond, he threatened me.
My only response to him then was as a businessman. I told him this was my profession and I did it with honor and within my code of ethics, just like he ran his business, knowing most Cosa Nostra prided themselves on honor as they saw it.
Falcone was quiet for a while and then he looked down at the ice pack on his ankle. Speaking to Steph, he said, "You're quite beautiful…I don't even know your name…"
Immediately, I barked, "Names aren't important. I'm the one taking you in. She's just along for the ride." I hoped he'd drop the subject.
Falcone hesitated and then continued, "I'll just keep calling you Bella, then. Thanks for taking care of my ankle. Why don't you come back here and sit with me, Bella. If I'm going to prison, I could sure use some of your TLC on the rest of me."
Steph grinned back at him, "I'm not the one who treated your ankle. But I can drive if you want him to sit next to you and give you some more TLC, Matteo." She tilted her head my way as she mentioned me. Thankfully, Falcone shut up for the rest of the way.
Tank met us at the U.S. Marshal's office. The feds took over responsibility for Falcone until he could be transferred to Interpol. I needed to stay and fill out the necessary paperwork and answer their questions to make sure all T's were crossed.
Leaving Rodriquez in Atlantic City holding a gun on those two henchmen would be sure to cause problems. Good thing I had a solid reputation with the guys in the Trenton PD and U.S. Marshal's office. They'd help smooth things over with the Atlantic City PD. This arrest was too important to my company's future to let some small oversight ruin it.
I pulled Tank aside and asked him to take Steph home in my car and then make the BMW and all records of it disappear, just in case Falcone's men tried to track it down.
I also asked him to retrieve Steph's car and our luggage from the Bentley Inn in Bay Head (and to leave a large tip for the maid). I remembered our 'fishing date' Monday with Jake and Bunnie and asked Tank for one more favor—'apologize to the Fiskers and tell them the yacht and crew were on me and to enjoy themselves.'
Finally, I promised Steph I'd join her as soon as I could.
It was eight in the morning before I finally crawled into bed with my Babe. She woke for a minute and snuggled into my arms and then we both slept until mid-afternoon. I awoke with a hard-on courtesy of Steph's warm hands and skillful mouth and we indulged in a little more afternoon delight. We'd survived our first fight as a couple.
