Thanks for the great response to the first chapter. I know the idea is different, but glad you're willing to explore this. I appreciate all the reviews. A lot of you felt like Steph wasn't wrong about Ma, so you'll see below if you were right. My goal is to post at least once a week until the story is complete. I don't plan on dragging it out.
Meme44 pointed out that it's not likely that Steph would be cellmates with a lifer (as well as adding the difference between jail and prison). I'm glad someone brought it up. It shouldn't (and probably wouldn't happen in real life), yet it's a good example of how twisted and corrupt things are against Babe. Plus, I used the veil of fiction to our advantage. (In Latin American countries, however, someone awaiting trial would be in the same place as someone already serving their sentence. Unless you have money or connections. We like to think that violations don't happen in the US, but just look at what happened in the Indiana jail night of terror.)
Disclaimer: The Plum universe belongs to JE. Typos are mine.
Ranger's POV
I took out my frustrations on the punching bag in front of me. From my peripheral, I could see the men shooting me concerned looks. Ignoring them, I continued.
I've been back in Trenton for several hours. After tossing and turning for most of the night, I got out of bed and ambled down to the gym.
While I was away on my latest government mission, all I could think about was getting the job done so that I could return to Babe. When I left Trenton, we'd moved past the dancing around stage. I knew that this time around all I had to do was come back, preferably in one piece, so that Babe and I could pick up where we left off. There shouldn't have been any surprises upon my return. I didn't have to torment myself every night wondering if she was back with Morelli, because I knew that she wouldn't be. Imagine my shock when after my briefing I reached out, only for Tank to break the horrible news to me.
Stephanie having to stay in custody while she awaited her court date was bullshit. The fact that said date kept getting pushed back while Babe was in detention was infuriating. It completely broke my heart to know that she's been stuck in fight mode for so long. She shouldn't even be in the place where she's being kept and I made sure to raise hell as high up as possible to make sure this fuck up was rectified pronto.
After a quick shower, I met with the Core Team in the large conference room on five. We spent the better part of an hour going through file after file of their findings until Hector burst into the room.
"Report." I ordered when I noted the look on his face. The men sucked in a breath as Hector shared that I wouldn't be able to visit Babe today during visiting hours like I'd anticipated. "Why not?" I barked out, beyond pissed off.
"Lockdown." When Hector shared that his source on the inside said that late last night two other inmates somehow magically popped into Babe's cell, I knew that the clock was ticking. Babe needs to be out of there ASAP!
"Is she hurt?" I asked, feeling my heart ache for her. Babe's been the light of our lives since we met her. She's been through so much, yet despite that she's managed to keep her essence pretty much intact.
Hector hesitated, which is very unlike him.
"Hec…" Tank added, possibly to keep me from lashing out.
We sat there frozen as Hector shared that his source isn't sure how badly hurt Stephanie is, just that she received treatment. After that, she was returned to her cell.
"Wh-…" I didn't get to ask my question, because Binkie called from the control room.
"Uhm, a young woman by the name of Jessie Kirk is here to see the Boss." Binkie said as soon as I answered the call.
"Did she say what it's about?" I frowned, knowing that she most likely wanted to meet with Tank. Not many people know that I'm back in Trenton. I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.
"Uhm, sir, she says she has valuable info about Bomber's case." Binkie added hurriedly.
The men and I waited anxiously until Slick escorted a redhead into the conference room. She had to be five foot five at most, her slim figure making her look tiny in a room full of Rangemen.
"How can we help you?" Tank asked as I let him take the lead.
"My name is Jessie Kirk." She said she was an investigative journalist.
"ID?" Hector asked. She blinked her blue eyes at him, nodding an assent quickly. Digging into her messenger bag, she handed her identification over to him.
As we waited for Hector to run a background check, Jessie Kirk stood at the end of the long oval table. Unlike Stephanie who usually bounced on her feet when she's made to stand still for too long, Jessie was frozen like a statue. Her eyes took everything and everyone in silently, but not even a hair moved on her frame.
Hector returned after several minutes and returned the ID to the woman. "Thank you." She said before stuffing it into her bag.
Hector told us in Spanish that she checked out. Once we had confirmation that she was who she said she was, Tank urged Jessie to get on with it.
S&R
Jessie's POV
I could feel the heat of the men's stare as they silently watched me. I stood still, making like I wasn't bothered by their assessing looks. In fact, the one with the green eyes was definitely giving me a flirty look.
Just when I wanted to shift my weight off of my right foot, the man with the tear drop tattoos returned with my ID. I shoved it into my bag as the men nodded in understanding. Good. At least they know I'm legit.
"What do you need to discuss with us, Miss Kirk?" The big man that looked like a tank actually introduced himself as Tank. It was a little funny.
I normally do a lot of research before I meet with someone new. I don't like not having any background to fall back on. However, everyone at Rangeman has been good about keeping low profiles. I know almost all of the men who work here are ex-military. Beyond that I wasn't able to find much else. Their government clearance levels are sky high and much of their work is classified. Coming in here blind isn't ideal for me, but at this point there's no one else I can turn to.
Taking a deep breath, I laid it all out for them.
A year ago I accidentally stumbled on a juicy story about drugs and corruption. Trenton's always had a certain reputation, but as new players arrived in town a clear power struggle began. My curiosity was piqued when I discovered that a new drug king had claimed a sizable chunk of New Jersey. Other areas didn't stand a chance against a big narco boss. Trenton, however, pushed back. Certain portions of the city have been run by the old school mafia for decades. Entire family lineages have kept their claim on their land when it came to the drugs and arms trade. No way these established families were going to simply step aside for a newcomer. Nope!
I began my investigation, collecting info and evidence as I went. It was quite fascinating to watch the established mob outmaneuver the newer blood trying to encroach on their territory.
And then my informant tipped me off about a certain police detective that had strong ties to the Italian Mob, but was buying his coke from the new cartel single handedly running Stark Street. That was not going to fly with either side when they found out. You can't sleep with a mob princess and then do business with their competitors. It's obvious how that's not going to work long term.
When I shifted my focus on Detective Morelli, it was easier to gain information quickly. He's an arrogant asshole. He's been sleeping with the mob so long that he's become comfortable, thinking that he's untouchable.
One night I was on his tail, like I'd been for a few weeks, when he cornered a curly haired woman outside of her apartment building. It was dark out, but he'd encroached her personal space right under the parking lot lamp. With my long-lense camera, I captured the interaction closely despite not being able to hear everything that was said. He yelled and berated the woman, until she had enough of his shit. She'd tried to go around him multiple times and he just kept ignoring her, pushing her back against the brick wall. After her back slammed against the brick wall a little too roughly, the expression on her face changed. In a move that was so spectacular, she placed her hands on his shoulders and kneed him in the balls. I was so impressed with how the practiced move left Morelli writhing on the asphalt, that I had a good laugh at his expense. I think that's what kept me aware of the time, because it was such a great move.
I stopped to take a deep breath before I continued. I felt like I rambled on a little too fast, but the men were still watching expectantly. They were listening alright.
"When the whole time of death thing kept circulating, I knew Stephanie would be freed." Why so much information leaked before the investigation was closed and it went to trial, I wasn't initially sure of the motives. Yet, it became obvious that someone was taking the opportunity to frame and target Stephanie Plum. She had a solid alibi. At the time of the murder, Stephanie was kneeing her ex in the balls across town.
"You're saying Morelli is in on this?" I heard one of the men ask with their teeth clenched.
"I know he's part of the conspiracy." I said. His unwillingness to say the truth was very telling. He denied that he'd gone to Stephanie's apartment that night. Why? Probably on Vito Grizzoli's orders. Or maybe he's just a douchebag.
"Let me get this straight." The handsome man with the green eyes stated. "You think this was a whole wrong place, wrong time type of thing?"
I nodded. When Stephanie was on the trail of one of her skips, she unknowingly stumbled upon a gruesome find. It's my belief that the reason she was implicated was because the man's killer thought Stephanie was someone else. One of the killer's men must have recognized her as having a connection to Morelli. Since he's been very indiscreet with his escapees with Terry Gilman, the cartel thought Stephanie was the so-called Mob Princess. The Grizzoli clan obviously didn't dispute the erroneous intel.
"I became so invested in Ms. Plum's case, that I decided to dig deeper." I applied to work as a guard, specifically choosing the location where Stephanie was being held. "I didn't really think I'd get the job." I mean, I used my real name! A quick search would have told my prospective employer what I really do for a living.
"You've been collecting evidence this whole time?" The man that was seated at the head of the table asked. His complexion reminded me of a mocha latte. He was quite handsome, filling out his T-shirt very nicely. Then again, all the men in the room were also smokin' hot.
"Yes." I have enough to expose every dirty asshole that took advantage of the situation, trading an innocent woman's life for a few bucks or favors as the conspiracy and cover up grew exponentially.
The problem is, now that I have a good handle of what's going on… I suddenly realized that time's really ticking for Stephanie now. I need help to be strategic. I'd love nothing more than to just expose all those sick bastards, but what if that's not enough to give Stephanie her freedom back?
As soon as I heard about the attack in her cell in the middle of the night, I knew that I needed an ally.
"How do we know we can trust you?" One of the men asked. He had cornrows and is one of the men that visited Stephanie the most.
"I could say the same to you." I bit out.
Instead of a reply, the man with the tear drop tattoos began speaking in rapid fire Spanish. Mocha Latte and Green Eyes joined in. The others simply nodded their assent.
I rolled my eyes, accustomed to having people think that I can't understand them when they speak Spanish. Usually, I'd have fun messing with people for making assumptions. Sadly, we don't have time for that right now. Clock's ticking.
"No hay tiempo que perder." I huffed out. We really don't have even a second to spare. I reminded the men that we don't have time to waste.
All eyes were on me as I continued, unwilling to slow down. I explained that the leader of the new cartel in town is only known by his street name: El Guero . No one seems to know what his real name is or where he came from. The few that have seen him face to face haven't lived to tell the tale. It's my theory that the night everything went down, Stephanie unknowingly crossed paths with him. She probably didn't even realize who she was in the presence of. It was likely her lack of recognition that afforded her the privilege of walking out alive that night. Then, one of El Guero's men probably told him Stephanie shared a past with Morelli. And she became a liability when it somehow got twisted that she was the Italian Mob Princess.
"Because of her 'reputation', Stephanie couldn't just simply disappear." I shrugged. There would be too many people asking questions, starting with every man in this building. El Guero wanted to take pleasure in making the Grizzolis suffer; seeing them divided would make it easier for them to lose ground. He wants to show the Grizzoli clan that their time to rule has come to an end and he's ready to take the whole pie for himself just like he's done elsewhere. And quite successfully, I might add.
Except this time, he was given outdated info. He's got no idea that Stephanie is actually Manoso's Babe. Probably not the type of war he was looking to start.
S&R
Stephanie's POV
"Oh, sorry." I said distractedly after bouncing off a wall of solid muscle. I'd finally gotten a lead on my elusive FTA, Martin Echols. Except he was dead when I arrived at the apartment on the third floor of a sketchy building. It looked like he blew his brains out using a shotgun. The stench was so bad that I couldn't stay in the apartment while I waited for officers to arrive on scene. So, I hurriedly made my way down the stairs as I tried to fish my cell phone out of my bag. In my shocked haze, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.
"No es problema." A deep, rich voice told me it wasn't a problem as large hands grabbed my elbows to keep me from teetering over the railing.
My eyes flew open when the distinctive blare of an alarm signified the newest count. Sitting up groggily in my bed, I gingerly slid off my perch. According to my calculations, it's been about seventy three hours since this lockdown began. Well, since I started to keep count. After Ma knocked me out, the guards came in to our cell. By the time I came to I was being hauled out of the cell by two male guards while everything was still spinning around me. During our scuffle, Shawty managed to tag my side. She didn't get to full on stab me, but it was still a little more than a scratch. I got some minimal patch work before I was relentlessly pressed about what happened in the cell. I said the truth, much to their dislike. I shouldn't have been surprised when I was returned to my cell. Ma caught me staring and let out a sigh.
"Don't worry. It'll be no rap." Ma was positive that the whole incident would be played down by the official report.
"How can you be so sure?" I had asked despite being thankful for what she did.
"Because it's not worth the cover up paperwork if they can't pin it on you, Blue." Ma told me that the only way Shawty and her accomplice had a cell key was because they got it from a guard. Shit.
I was relieved to know that my initial gut instincts weren't wrong. Despite that, sleep has been elusive. During this lockdown, we've been continuously kept inside of our cells. We're not allowed to leave. Food is brought to us. We have a sink and toilet, so that necessity is covered as well. On paper it doesn't sound so bad, except the guards have kept the lights on the whole time. And if that doesn't make it hard to sleep all on its own, the constant headcounts do. Having to stand by the bars every fifteen minutes only allows for micro naps. It's torture!
I'm starting to think that this won't end until I change my 'narrative', taking credit for the two dead women found in our cell.
I was exhausted. I had a headache, but not from Ma's hit. Nope, it was from being sleep deprived! My temples pounded and my eyelids felt heavy as I retook my position on my bunk.
As soon as my eyes closed, I saw him. Finally, after all this time I'm finally able to recall what that mystery man looks like.
At the time everything happened so fast. I only saw his face for a split second before I continued on my way. I witnessed two very horrific crime scenes that night. I had an unpleasant run in with Morelli before that. On top of it all, I've been focusing on surviving. There haven't been many moments I could give myself the luxury of completely getting lost in thought. Who would've guessed that this forced no real sleep torture would help me unlocked an important fuzzy memory.
I tried to regulate my breathing like Ranger always does as I went over the image in my head. Dirty blond hair… dressed head to toe in a black suit…no tie… the top four buttons of his dress shirt were open, revealing a good expanse of his muscular chest…a flash of gold around his neck…chiseled jaw…handsome facial features… clean shaven…and best of all, his distinctive eyes: one green and one brown.
My eyes flew open just seconds before the next headcount round. I smiled despite being physically exhausted. That stranger I bumped into has to be an important piece in this whole distorted puzzle. He's the only unknown entity I interacted with that night. I never believed that he wasn't connected to this nightmare, but struggled to remember what he looked like. It was like my brain had been blocking out the memories of that night.
He'll be easy to make out if I ever see him again, I decided as I moved to stand by the bars.
And when we meet again, I'll make sure to settle the score.
*guero is a nickname for someone who is fair-skinned/fair-haired. It would literally translate to mean 'blond', but it's used a lot broader than that in Spanish. El or la is used when describing or talking about someone. In English it sounds weird to add an article in front of a person's name (The Stephanie just doesn't sound right in English, lol).