Chapter Thirteen

Ranger let himself into Stephanie's apartment. Picking the lock on her flimsy front door had been ridiculously easy. The woman needed much better security. A five-year-old could get through that front door with less effort than it took to nick candy bar from the local stop and rob.

The shades were drawn and the room was dim. Ranger heard a rhythmic squeak, and quickly pulled his weapon. It sounded like someone was already in the apartment. He moved silently into the room, honing in on the sound. As he got closer her realized it wasn't someone in the apartment it was a something. Ranger holstered his gun.

Ranger narrowed his eyes studying the aquarium on the counter. Stephanie had some sort of a rodent, and it was running on its wheel to nowhere. Its little pink feet a blur. Ranger lightly tapped on the glass. The furry little thing stopped, whiskers twitching. Its shiny black eyes staring back at him.

It was kind of cute. For a rat.

As Ranger's eyes adjusted and more of the apartment came into focus. It was small, like postage stamp size. The main area was a living room that combined with the dining room, and a small kitchen separated by a bar. The bar was mostly taken up by the aquarium and some slightly hideous cookie jar, in the shape of a bear. Ranger opened the cookie jar and peered inside. It had loose change, a tube of chapstick, a ballpoint pen, and a couple of condoms.

The dining room table had four mismatched chairs around it, and the living area contained a couch, chair, coffee table and a TV. The furniture could best be described as eclectic, which was really just a fancy way of saying exactly nothing matched. Then again, something about the place felt homey and comfortable. A strange, but pleasant mix of contradictions, like the woman herself.

He rifled through the small kitchen, not so much because he was looking for clues, but because he wanted to know more about the woman. What she liked, what was important to her. Or not. You could tell a lot about person just from the things that they had or didn't have.

Stephanie had one pot, one skillet, and a cookie sheet. If Ranger had to guess, he would say she didn't do much cooking. That was fine by Ranger, he always figured men that thought women belonged in the kitchen, just didn't know what to do with them in the bedroom. He felt his body react to the memories from last night, and he quickly pushed them away. Ranger didn't do relationships, and when she found out who he really was, Ranger doubted he would have worry about sex either.

Ranger opened the refrigerator and couldn't help it when his lip curled back. Beer and some slimy, slightly unidentifiable glob that had probably once been a head of lettuce. Ranger wasn't obsessively neat, but he had an almost uncontrollable urge to throw the slimy glob in the trash. Instead, he slammed the refrigerator door closed and continued through the apartment.

The bathroom looked like it had come right out of the seventies, and had never been updated. The slightly burnt orange color was an assault to the senses, and made his head throb a little. He flipped open the medicine cabinet. Nothing out of the ordinary and no prescription pill bottles. So far, he had learned Stephanie Plum didn't spend her money on home furnishings, she didn't have a prescription drug problem, and she lived with a rat. Exactly nothing was screaming criminal. Except maybe the living with a rat part. Especially since the rat didn't even have a tail, which now that he thought about it, probably made it a hamster or something.

Ranger took a half-hearted look under the sink, just to make sure she wasn't hiding wads of cash with her toiletries. He found towels, toilet bowl cleaner, and tampons.

The last room in her apartment was her bedroom. He made his way over to the window and looked out onto the fire escape. Her apartment was on the back side of the building overlooking the parking lot.

His eyes cut to her queen size bed, and his fingers trailed absently over the pillows. He felt the slight roughness of the fabric as he grazed his fingertips along the contours of the bed. She needed better sheets. A woman like that deserved to have nothing but the softest, most luxurious of fabrics touch her silky skin. As her scent drifted up to him, he felt a familiar heaviness, as his body remembered her.

It was a light scent that was both sexy and cajoling. It teased his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply. Lavender maybe. It had been intoxicating, and seductive as he'd kissed his way up her body last night. Whatever it was, he liked it, and he had no doubt every time he smelled it, he would think of her. He forced his thoughts back to the present task, and away from visions of her underneath him on that queen bed, moaning his name and raking her nails down his back.

Ranger moved to the closet. Mainly work clothes, jeans and t-shirts. Ranger looked at her handbags and selected the ones with the most wear. He pulled out his knife and made a little slit in the lining, slipping the trackers in.

Ranger moved to the dresser and opened the drawers. The top one was full of lingerie. Mainly practical cotton things. Nothing like what she had on last night. That gave him a moment of pure satisfaction. She'd worn some sexy as hell lingerie last night for a reason. And that reason had been him.

Ranger thought she should wear lingerie like that every day. If she was his, he'd make sure she had nothing but the best. Whoa, where had that thought come from. Ranger shook his head, hoping maybe he could shake some sense into himself.

Ranger went back into the main living area, and just stood there absorbing the feel of the space. A hodge podge of furnishings that said she valued comfort over aesthetics. Not tidy, but not dirty. No family photos and not much in the way of sentimental knick-knacks. She wasn't particularly domestic from the looks of things.

She definitely didn't cook, and shopping for food seemed to be low on the list. She had an impressive array of junk food in the cabinets, mainly sweets, and something called tastykakes. A huge jar of peanut butter, but no bread. She had a number of shoes, but only a few handbags. If he had to guess, her biggest splurge was on shoes, and even that wasn't a lot.

Nothing about her lifestyle was extravagant or suggested she needed money. Everything in her apartment aligned with what he'd seen on paper. She lived within her means and had a healthy savings account.

No evidence of hidden vices that didn't show on her background check. No illegal drugs, only a few beers in the fridge, no whips and chains under the bed, just the usual battery-operated boyfriend (B.O.B), and a couple of condoms. Nothing to suggest she kept questionable company, as long as you didn't count the cop.

A cop that had ties to a mob enforcer, always made him a little nervous, but his background on Morelli had turned up nothing criminal. His relationship with Terry stemmed from high school, so it was more likely he was in love than he was a dirty cop. It was entirely possible the fact he was a cop was the reason he wasn't with Terry. Ranger wondered if that would change now that Terry was pregnant.

Stephanie's laptop was on the kitchen table. It looked like she used the table more for working than she did for eating. There were papers and file folders next to the laptop.

Ranger opened the laptop. It glowed to life asking for a password. Ranger thought about having Silvio do some magic, but he'd been in her apartment longer than he should be. She lived with a bunch of senior citizens. The bad news, they were all sitting at home and they were all nosy. The good news, they couldn't see or hear that well.

Ranger flipped through the files on the table and stopped. They were work files from E.E. Martin. She had circled and highlighted several areas. Ranger took photos of several of the pages. He was sure the proof he had been looking for was in these files. Ranger made a split-second decision, and decided to take the files and the laptop. He'd clone the laptop and copy the files. Hopefully he would have them back before Stephanie came home. If not, well it couldn't be helped.

He noticed there had been no reply from Stephanie to his text. He let out a sigh. Nothing was ever easy.

Ranger took one last look around the apartment. The little rodent thing was still on the wheel running to nowhere. Ranger felt kind of sorry for it. He knew how much he hated running on a treadmill, all that effort to go nowhere and see nothing new. No wonder hamsters were crazy. He smiled at Stephanie's choice of a roommate. Apparently, she liked the small, silent type that didn't require too much care and attention. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

Ranger made sure the front door was locked, and made his way down the fire escape, leaving the window unlocked for easy re-entry. Ranger scanned the parking lot. He didn't see any mob types lurking behind the dumpster. Ranger slid into the Porsche.

Stephanie found herself in the parking lot of E.E Martin. She wasn't even sure how she got there. Her body had been on autopilot, her mind filing through everything that had happened. She parked and checked her phone. Still nothing from Morelli.

She dialed him again, and it went straight to voicemail.

"Joe, it's Stephanie. Call me. It is urgent." Stephanie left another message. In all fairness, Morelli was probably at a crime scene, interviewing witnesses, or notifying a family. A hundred reasons he hadn't called her back. Still, she wished she could talk to him. She really needed his advice.

Stephanie took a couple of deep breaths. OK, what did she know. She knew there were accounting discrepancies. She knew at least one of the vendors Raymond wanted her to enter into the system was fake, and she knew someone was shredding the evidence. Beyond that she was only speculating. Raymond could be in on it, or he could be clueless. Pardo could be in on it. All she knew for sure was he was up close and personal with Terry Gilman this morning. In a public place she reminded herself. It was possible there could have been a legitimate reason for the meeting. Whatever the answer, Pardo couldn't help her and she couldn't trust him.

Stephanie had a feeling someone was cleaning house, and someone would be left holding the bag. She was little afraid that someone might be her. Had she been promoted to be the fall guy? Is that why Raymond was pushing her to enter fake vendors?

What she needed was to get proof. That was her only option. Now the question was how.

Stephanie grabbed her badge and made her way through the front doors and up to her office. The office was dark and Rory wasn't at his desk. Unease tingled at the base of her spine, where was he? She passed his vacant desk and turned on the lights in her office. Everything looked perfectly in order. Ah, now she remembered, Rory had taken the day off because he and his band were playing some festival in Maryland. She blew out a breath. She was jumpy as a cat. She needed to relax and think.

She turned on her computer and watched it blink and whir as it came to life. The problem was Stephanie didn't have access to everything she wanted. Stephanie pulled up the files she had been looking at yesterday, and was engrossed in them when her phone rang.

A wash of relief went over her, Morelli was finally calling her back. She answered without looking.

"Joe." She barked.

A beat of silence went by.

"No, Stephanie it's your mother." Stephanie groaned. Her day officially sucked.

"Mom." She said with forced cheer.

"Are you and Joseph fighting?" Her mother asked. Suspicion and annoyance tinged her voice.

Were they fighting? That was kind of a loaded question. No, they weren't fighting because there was really nothing to fight about.

"No." Stephanie elongated the o.

"Well, snapping at Joseph won't get a ring on your finger anytime soon. Yelling makes them uncomfortable. They think you are crazy, and men don't want to marry crazy women." Her mother warned.

Stephanie rolled her eyes so far, she could see the back of her own head. Apparently, no one had told her father that.

Who said she even wanted a ring on her finger? And really, in all fairness, the only reason women were crazy was because men did stupid things. If Morelli would stop doing stupid shit, then she wouldn't act crazy. It was a little of a chicken and an egg problem.

Stephanie worked to control her temper. She could hear the clinking of ice in a glass. She wondered if it was her mother's special tea. The one that was way more whiskey than tea. Now that she thought about it, her mother might be on to something. She kind of wished she had some of that special tea about now.

"I'm a little busy at work, what's up?" Stephanie forced her voice to remain calm. She tried to picture herself as a rational adult. It wasn't working. She could feel the flush of anger creeping up her neck and staining her cheeks.

"I'm making a nice roast chicken tonight; you should come for dinner. Bring Joseph. But you have to be on time, you know how your father gets, and your grandma has a viewing. Betty Szajack's brother-in-law died and your grandma wants to make the seven o'clock viewing. She said there is bound to be a big crowd and she wants to go early to get a good seat."

Stephanie could tell her mother was working up to what she really wanted to ask. "I'm making chocolate cake." She offered hopefully.

"I can't tonight. I have to work late. I have a meeting with the CEO." Even though the offer of chocolate cake did hold some appeal, it didn't trump the whole money laundering issue.

"Just the two of you?" Stephanie could feel her mother's disapproval through the phone line. Stephanie could tell her mother was still holding out for her to get a good job at the button factory one of these days.

"Don't know." Stephanie mumbled, suddenly feeling like a teenager again.

"Is that who you were with last night? Betty Yokes said she saw you leave your apartment with a man in a fancy black sports car, and she saw him drop you off this morning." The implication was clear.

Stephanie sighed. The Burg gossip tree did better investigation than the FBI.

"No, I wasn't with my boss last night. I work with my boss." She gritted out between her clenched teeth.

And, Ewww. Raymond was old enough to be her father. If she ever got that desperate, she would just stick her head in the oven. Irritation spiked behind her eyeball as her eyelid started to twitch. Stephanie reached up and pressed her fingers to the corner of her eye in a futile effort to stop the twitching.

Stephanie chose not to answer the real question. Besides it wasn't like Pardo was ever coming to dinner with her parents. It was unlikely they would ever meet, especially since Stephanie never planned to actually see him again. The Terry thing had been the last straw, and not just because he might be in the mob. Half of Trenton was in the mob. No, she was done sharing men with Terry Gilman and her giant double Ds. Just once, it would be great if some guy she was interested in, didn't have the hots for Terry. So what if she'd been prom queen and a cheerleader for the New York Giants. That had been years ago. Stephanie blew out a frustrated breath. Yeah, who was she kidding. Terry was everything Stephanie wasn't. Blonde, stacked, and connected.

"I'm afraid Joseph is going to hear about this. Betty knows his mother. What is he going to think, you spending time with strange men?" Her mother's voice was ripe with worry.

"Mom, Joe and I aren't together. We aren't getting married. We broke up, remember."

"Oh, that was just a little fight. He'll come around. Maybe make him a nice dinner."

Because everyone knew that pot roast and pineapple upside down cake could fix anything. If only that were true Stephanie thought. Not even cake could fix her problems with Morelli.

Because that was the basic difference between her and Morelli. Maybe Stephanie's first thought was of cake, but Morelli's was always of sex, which might have been OK, except it wasn't sex with her. It was sex with little red teddy. Somehow, she didn't think cake was ever going to replace that.

Then again, when she thought about it, maybe sex with Pardo might replace cake for her. She slapped her palm to her forehead. Focus.

"Mom!" Stephanie snapped. "Joe and I are over." She was surprised when she said it, that she knew it was the truth. It didn't hurt, it didn't sting. It didn't even really make her mad.

She could hear the hissing sound of the iron as it heated up. Her mother ironed out her anxieties, and clearly having an old maid slut for a daughter was one of them.

"You need to go to see Father John."

Stephanie figured she'd rather have a root canal. "Why?" She asked cautiously.

"Because everyone knows you spent the night with the man in the black sports car. Everyone knows you had premarital sex." Her mother's voice was a harsh whisper. "If you get a reputation, Joe isn't going to want to marry you."

Stephanie couldn't help the bubble of hysterical laughter that escaped her throat.

"It's not premarital sex if you never plan on getting married." Stephanie yelled. She heard her mother's sharp intake of breath.

"I've got to go. I'll talk to you later." Stephanie hung up the phone before she made things worse.

Her mother meant well. She really did. But Morelli was the one out screwing everything that walked, and she was the one that had to worry about her reputation?

She could picture her mother in the kitchen ironing, drinking her special tea, and fretting. Worrying about appearances. Lunacy seemed to have skipped a generation in the Plum family, and her mother was left to bear the burden of maintaining standards of decorum for the family. Stephanie and her grandma were definitely the loose cannons as far as her mother was concerned. Always stirring up trouble. They were perpetual embarrassments. But hey, at least they had fun doing it.

Stephanie thought for a minute. She really needed to get those files, and the best way to do that was get the guy in IT to download them for her. Tom, Tim, Burt, Bob. What was his name? She thought for a minute and came up blank. He was a thirty something nerd with perpetual acne, a belly courtesy of coke and Doritos, that was obsessed with online gaming and lived in his mother's basement. He also loved to stare at her tits. And that was her ace in the hole.

Stephanie reached up and started unbuttoning her blouse. Cleavage would definitely impede his ability to focus. He probably wouldn't even hear what she was saying, let alone question it. Everyone knew the primary purpose of breasts, was to make men stupid.

She kind of wished she had a better bra on. She'd ditched the lacy one for a practical cotton one in a light tan color. It was comfortable and a little industrial. It wasn't going to make the cover of Victoria's Secret anytime soon.

Fuck it, she'd just take the damn thing off. That should get his attention. Breast power should be wielded with awareness and intent. Stephanie closed her office door and peeled off her bra. She looked in the mirror hung on the back of her door and flicked a couple more buttons undone on her shirt. She only had one shot at this, now was not the time to be bashful. Hopefully she didn't run into anyone on the way to IT. Cleavage wasn't in her job description, and she really didn't want to be the one to write it in.

Stephanie got on the elevator and headed to the basement. She could feel her breasts sway with each step. She really didn't know how women went braless; it was damn uncomfortable. As she stepped off the elevator, she thought this was probably a bad idea. The problem wasn't recognizing it was a bad idea. The problem was aborting the bad idea before she did something incredibly stupid. She'd never had good luck with that.

The chill of the server room caused her nipples to harden, she figured that was a sign from the god he was OK with the plan. As she approached, the IT geek's eyes were glued to her chest. She put a little extra bounce in her step, and she saw his mouth pop open.

He was sitting at his desk staring. His eyes never looked up to her face. She checked out his ID badge. His name was Dan. Who knew? OK, she thought. Here goes nothing.

She leaned forward and put her hands on his desk giving him a line of sight down her shirt.

"Dan." She purred. "My assistant is out today, and I was wondering if you could help me." Stephanie waited. She narrowed her eyes and assessed him. He appeared catatonic. Maybe it was a little too much boob and he was in overload. She stood up and hitched her hip on his desk. His eyes followed her chest, but they seemed a little less glazed.

"I need some financial reports for my meeting with Raymond. Do you think you could make me a copy?" She asked.

He just stared at her chest.

"Dan." She barked.

Suddenly he came to life and gazed up at her. She quickly turned her glare to her best sex kitten look. She was a little afraid she might look like she had bad gas or something. Maybe the expression on her face was not conveying the level of sex appeal she was hoping for based on the way he just stared at her with a blank look.

She suddenly realized the problem. He hadn't heard a word she said.

"I was hoping you could help me." She smiled at him and he smiled back. Good at least a few synapses were firing.

"I need some financials for my meeting with Raymond and my assistant is out. Can you make me a copy?" She batted her lashes, supremely glad for the extra swipe of mascara.

"Sure." He stammered as his eyes went back to her chest.

"Which ones do you need?" He asked as he sucked a big gulp of coke through the straw in his drink, making an obscene slurping noise. Stephanie grimaced a little in disgust. Not that he noticed since his eyes were glued to her nipples that were rock hard from the cold.

"I'm not sure what I'll need. How about all of them?" Stephanie held her breath. He should really ask why she needed them and get authorization for it. Stephanie leaned forward again.

Dan was nodding his head like a bobble head doll.

"OK."

Stephanie handed him a flash drive. "Just put them on this." She made her voice all breathy and husky, like she imagined a porn star would sound.

It must have worked. He took the drive and inserted it. Dan tore his eyes away from her and typed a few key strokes. She saw the greenlight on the drive light up, and held her breath.

God, she hoped it was quick. It was about all she could do not to cross her arms, and slap him upside the head. Instead, she stayed perched on his desk as the files copied. After what seemed like an eternity, a little beep was emitted and he pulled the drive out and handed it to her.

He licked his chapped lips. "I'm getting together with some of my buddies tonight. We are playing Valorant. Want to come." He directed his question to her breasts.

"Gosh, I wish I could." She gave him her best smile, not that he was looking at her face. "I'm working late, but some other time." Like when hell froze over, pigs flew, and her mother stopped trying to marry her off.

Stephanie quickly exited the server room and got on the elevator. She let out the breath she had been holding. She had the files. Dan had accessed them under his name, so it wouldn't immediately be traced back to her. He didn't ask for her to sign for them or for authorization. It was entirely possible he wouldn't be able to actually describe what she looked like other than an approximate bra size. Score one for the girls. That had gone far better than she expected.

Stephanie got back to her office and put herself back together. She peered at the marks on her neck. They were at least starting to fade. The last reminder of her utter stupidity. She tucked the flash drive in her bra. She figured there was some poetic justice to that.

Now, she just had to get through her meeting with Raymond this evening. Feel around the edges see what he knew. Then what? She wasn't really sure. She'd go home. Check the files, and hopefully figure out how not to get caught up in the bomb blast that was coming. That job at the button factory didn't look so bad about now. Maybe her mother had been right. Stephanie had a bad feeling if she listened to her mother more often, her life would be less of a wreck. It would also be boring as shit, but maybe boring was better than this.

She checked her phone. Still no Morelli. Apparently, it was true. The only men you could count on these days were Ben and Jerry. Maybe, if she was lucky, they were the only men she would ever need. Well, them and B.O.B. anyway.