Round Robin

Chapter 18 (midnightandahalf)

RANGER

"No."

Stephanie's hand tightened on my thigh and my men shot Gazzara worried glances. They were rightfully concerned for his health. The six of us, including Tank, Santos, and Brown, were seated around a RangeMan conference table.

"We'll need things to be the same as usual, so we don't tip him off," Gazzara barreled on. "Your usual set-up is on the eastern edge of the market, yeah?"

Steph nodded. "Between Mrs. Glover's Grove and Clayton's Cranberries."

"I'll do some recon on both and see if we can pass off a couple of undercover men at either booth," he said. "If the usual vendors are recognizable, though, then we'll have to go with Plan B and have our guys posed as customers or lookie-loos."

"No," I said, louder this time.

Santos scooted his chair further away from Gazzara, moving out of the line of fire.

The look on Gazzara's face was all wrong. I was going for petrified subservience, and all I got was confusion. "If you don't have the men to spare, I've got a couple of guys in the department that I trust."

"Absolutely fucking not!" I burst out of my seat, and it rolled back and hit the wall behind me, punctuating my statement. "We're not using Stephanie as bait."

"And we're not using anyone from the Department of Deception, no matter how trusted you may think they are," Lester argued. I looked at him, and he backtracked. "If we were doing it at all. Which we're not."

"You can't keep her locked away in a tower for the rest of her life," Gazzara argued.

My teeth creaked from the pressure as I ground them together. "And you can't just throw her into rough waters like a bucket of chum."

"Neither of you can talk about her like she isn't sitting right here!" Steph mimicked my move, sending her chair flying as she spun on me. Arms crossed, brow furrowed, eyes burning. "Bucket of chum? Seriously?"

Tank drew my glare with a snort poorly disguised as a cough.

"Babe." I bit back a sigh. "Give us some time. We'll come up with a different plan."

"How much time?" she demanded. "It's been weeks already."

I was going to crack a filling again.

Brown cleared his throat and caught our attention. His palms were flat on the table, and he met my stare without flinching. "This may not be the worst idea. Are we confident that we've narrowed the suspect list enough that we'll recognize the stalker on sight?"

"No," I insisted, at the same time that Gazzara and Steph both said "Yes".

I turned to Stephanie and let her read the question from my body language.

"It's got to be either Olmney, Gaspik, or Bolan, right?" she asked. "They're all regular customers. If anything seems out of the ordinary, I'll give you some sort of signal, and you'll swoop in right away."

"The second we have evidence of anything fishy going on, he'll be nailed to the wall," Gazara added.

Unfortunately, this wasn't my first rodeo. The second we had evidence, and the second the guy was on his belly with my knee on his back, were two separate things. And it was the span of all the seconds in between that tightened my chest and made my blood run cold.

But they were right. Stephanie couldn't live her life holed up on seven any more than she could spend every day being shadowed by security detail. She'd suffocate.

Tank sensed my weakness and swooped in for the kill. "We can mic her, so we'll have eyes and ears. And she'll be wearing a tracker, just in case."

The idea of her needing a tracker made my heart flop around my chest like a fish out of water. Fuck. We were going to do this.

###

"You're going to break that," Santos said quietly. He nodded toward the steering wheel, which I was doing my best to choke the life out of.

I wanted to break something. I hoped to get a chance to. But I'd been banished to the fucking vehicle since my presence would set off the stalker. Lester kept me company because he, too, was recognizable. Ram, Manny, Zip, and Woody were mixed into the crowd around Steph's table.

The Trenton Farmers Market was more crowded than I'd imagined. The parking lot was overflowing, which made it easier for us to go unnoticed in the van. We'd managed to get a spot with a direct line of sight, but we were a football field's length away from where Steph was set up. I felt itchy about the hordes of people who stood between me and her.

Stephanie was wearing a wire and transmitting to my earbuds. We'd been watching and waiting for nearly two and a half hours, and the market would be closing in another thirty minutes. She was a hit and had a steady stream of customers all evening. A gaggle of children had descended from a yellow school bus twenty minutes ago, their happy screams contributing to the soundtrack of the market.

We'd already known that such a crowded location was less than ideal for audio. We'd set up a safe word for Stephanie - pecan pie - so she could cue us in if she sensed trouble. The mic wouldn't pick up anything distinguishable from anyone she was talking to. We also hadn't given her a link to our comms, at her insistence. She'd been afraid she'd be too distracted and would give herself way; so, she was one-way only.

None of the cops on our suspect list had made an appearance, and I was starting to steel myself for repeating this stomach-churning surveillance again next week.

"You're going to want to go see Josie at Buns and Roses across the way, and get some of her scones," Steph was telling a customer. "They're just mouthwatering, and with the gooseberry jam…" She trailed off with a moan that sent warmth down my spine.

"Is that Gaspik?"

Immediately on high alert, I snapped at Lester. "Where?"

"My three o'clock," he said. "Wearing a Trenton PD ballcap. Headed toward Steph."

I scanned the crowd, setting my gaze above the heads of the swarm of schoolchildren. Hal confirmed in my ear, "I've got him at my twelve o'clock."

The extra wayfinding helped me pick him out of the crowd. Gaspik slowed at a vegetable stand to peruse the bell peppers. He was two booths down from Stephanie's.

"Hold positions," Ram ordered. He had a better vantage point than I did, and I had to trust that he had control.

While the team was scoping Gaspik, Stephanie greeted another customer. Dark blonde hair, cut short. Khakis and a navy-blue t-shirt. He had his back to us, but Steph had greeted him as if she knew him, so my hackles were raised.

"Manny, who's that at Steph's table?" I asked.

"I've got a bad angle," he reported.

"Anyone?" I demanded.

The negatives rolled in, along with a muttered curse from Woody. "Are these kids multiplying? They're worse than rabbits."

I spared a glance to see him knee-deep in children, fighting his way upstream away from a gelato booth.

"Did you run out already?" I heard Steph ask. Her tone was light and teasing, which only made my blood run hotter. Whoever she was talking to, she knew him. "I didn't think I'd even be able to compete. I'm glad you talked me into trying this."

"Ram, get eyes," I ordered.

"Working on it."

"Hal, you've still got Gaspik?" I asked.

"Like white on rice," he confirmed.

"Sounds like fun," Stephanie was saying to the navy t-shirt, "But I've got about half an hour until things are wrapped up here, and then…"

Steph trailed off and I risked a glance across the crowd again. Gaspik was buying peppers and tomatoes, and I clocked Hal five paces away. Ram was doing his best to wade through people politely, but I saw him grip a granny by her shoulders and physically - yet gently - move her aside.

My eyes flew back to Stephanie when she gave a forced, fake laugh that gave me chills. I was vaulting out of the vehicle before I'd heard anything more. When she stumbled over her words and suggested that her strawberry jam would pair well with pecan pie, I'd covered less than a quarter of the distance between us. And when she sucked in an audible breath before making a scared squeak, I knew I was going to be too late.