I do not own any of these characters, although I would really like to meet up with Ranger in a dark room somewhere. I simply borrow and gently use them for my amusement.

Chapter Five

She unbolted the door when she heard me turn the key in the lock.

I tossed my keys into the dish and rifled through the mail, not opening any. "How was your day?"

"Good. You were right about Rodriguez. He was open for business at the bar on Third and Laramie."

I nodded in acknowledgement. I had a complete run down on her day from the team following her, but it was nice to hear her talk about it anyway. "Who's getting married?"

"Valerie."

There was a knock at the door, and Ella came in with a food tray.

"Would you like me to set the table?" she asked.

"Not necessary." No reason to waste time on dinner that could be better spent doing something else...like our appointment with Steph's kidnapped slayer. "You can just leave the tray in the kitchen."

Ella swept past us, deposited the food, and returned to the front foyer.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, looking at me.

She was fishing. I could tell she was curious, and the minute she caught me alone I was going to have to answer a million questions about what was going on with Steph and me. "No. We're good for the night. Thank you."

I locked the door after Ella and returned to the kitchen, Stephanie trailing behind me. This was the most time Steph and I had ever spent together not working. It felt good. I wondered what her reaction to my apartment and the details of my life was going to be. Batman is a lot to live up to. "This is ruining my image, isn't it?"

"All this time, I thought you were so tough. I imagined you sleeping on a dirt floor somewhere."

I uncovered one of the dishes. "There were years like that." Most of which I had no desire to remember, much less repeat. I appreciated everything I had these days, and had worked very hard to get them.

Dinner was roasted vegetables, wild rice, and chicken in lemon sauce. We filled our plates and ate at the counter, sitting on bar stools. Neither of us spoke much. I wondered what was going on in her mind; I was having trouble keeping mine off of her.

She finished her chicken, and looked over at the silver tray. "No dessert?"

I pushed back from the counter. Steph really didn't understand the concept of eating healthy. "Sorry, I don't eat dessert." I brought up our evening plans. Not the world's best date, going to rough up a gang-banger to make him talk. "Where are you keeping your Slayer?"

"Vinnie's house in Point Pleasant."

I had been impressed she had thought up this plan at all; she's normally much more timid about physical violence. "Who knows about this?"

"Connie, Lula, and me." Okay, not as impressed. I can't imagine Lula was much help. Connie could hold her own. I studied Steph's face. She was waiting for a comment, which I declined to voice. Morelli could criticize her choice of career; my interest was making her better at it. So far, nothing was so bizarre that she had jeopardized herself, so no need for reproach. Which, thinking of Steph being cautious, she had never taken her flak vest off when she returned tonight.

I reached across, unzipped her (my) sweatshirt, and released the Velcro tabs on the vest. "This isn't going to help you, Babe. Junkman shot his last two victims in the head." And if she continued to wear it, my view of her chest, firm and round, was obstructed.

She removed the vest, but put the sweatshirt back on. Damn. Not exactly an unobstructed view.

I dialed Ella and told her we were leaving, then took a utility belt and sweatshirt from the dressing room. The black nylon web belt carried the usual paraphernalia- a gun, stun gun, pepper spray, cuffs, a Maglite, and extra ammo. We left the apartment, locked up, and took the elevator. Tank and Hal met us in the garage; Steph and I took the Porsche Turbo, Tank and Hal the Explorer. I tossed the belt into the back as we pulled out.

We rolled out of the garage and cut over to Broad. It was a dark, moonless night. The cloud cover was low, threatening more rain. Tank and Hal stayed close behind us. I relaxed into my driving zone, silent. I was considering how best to handle Steph's presence at this interrogation. I didn't think she'd be able to handle it if we really had to work him over.

She interrupted my thoughts, as if she was reading them. "You aren't going to hurt him, are you?"

I looked at her in the review mirror. It still amazed me that she didn't want to beat this bastard black and blue on her own. I was going to do whatever I needed to do to get the information I wanted- including putting a bullet through parts of his body. "Babe."

"I know he probably killed a couple of people. But I'm sort of responsible for his safety."

"You want to explain that?"

She told me how they bonded Ward out and then kidnapped him. She was really coming along in the planning. It was a brilliant idea. "Nice," I said.

I neglected to give a definitive answer, though, and fell back into silence to avoid a more insistent question.

Vinnie's street was totally black, not a single light burning. Good for the operation. I pulled the Porsche into the driveway, leaving enough room for Tank to pull the SUV in behind us.

I decided to give Stephanie a chance to gracefully bow out of the situation. I knew she would not enjoy the experience, and I didn't think she'd learn anything from it about being a better bounty hunter. She just doesn't have the strength or presence to pull off intimidation at this level. And, quite frankly, she just doesn't have the stomach to do this part of the job herself. "I can leave you in the car with Hal," I told her as I got the belt from the back. "Would you feel more comfortable with that?"

To her credit, she declined my offer. "No. I'm coming in."

The house was quiet, without a sense a presence. The Slayer was in the bathroom, shackled to the toilet and sink pipe just as Stephanie had described. He didn't look very happy to see me.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked him quietly. The power of calmly threatening was immense, I had learned over the years. I hardly every raise my voice.

He nodded, checking out my weapons. "Yeah, I know who you are."

Good. Then he should know to be scared to shit of me. "I'm going to ask you some questions. And you need to give me the right answers."

The kid's eyes went from me to Stephanie and past me to Tank. I could see comprehension slowly dawning on his face.

"If you don't give me the right answers, I'm going to leave you alone in the house with Tank and Hal. Do you understand?" I didn't want to disturb Steph by personally beating the crap out of the guy. Talk about damaging my image. I didn't want her to see that side of me anymore than the brief glimpses of it she had already seen.

"Yeah, I understand."

"Tell me about Junkman," I directed.

"Nothing to tell. He's from out of town. L.A. Nobody even knows his name. Just Junkman."

What a helpful guy. My arm twitched a little. I really wanted to hit him. "Where does he live?"

"Moves around, livin' with the bitches. Always got a new bitch. We're not exactly best friends, you know? Like I don't know his bitches."

Such respect for women. "What's the deal with the killing? What's the list about?"

"Hey, man, I can't talk to you about these things. I'm a brother."

My patience began to wear thin. I was fully aware of Steph behind me, listening to the conversation. I decided to make him talk quickly and with as little blood as possible. I whacked him in the knee with the Maglite, and he went down like a sack of sand.

"Anybody finds out I talked to you, I'm a dead man," Ward said, holding his knee.

The superhero persona was coming out. This was the way the game was played. I was bigger, badder, and could make him hurt more right now. I just needed to make sure he understood that, and that I had no problem with doing more than hurting him. "You don't talk to me and you're going to wish you were dead."

The threat hit home.

"It's about being a Five Star General. Junkman was a lieutenant in the organization out in L.A. He got sent here to take over on account of Trenton's had some leadership problems. Power vacuum after our OG Moody Black got taken out. Only thing, Junkman gotta impress the members first. He gotta eat some serious food, you know. Like he has to make some kills that count. He already took out a Second Crown of the Kings and an enforcer. What he's got left is a cop and sweetie pie, here."

I cut off my emotional reaction and thought logically about his statements. Everything made sense from a gang perspective except Stephanie. "Why Stephanie?"

"She's a bounty hunter. She collected a bunch of the brothers. And it's not good to get collected by snatch. It's not a high prestige factor."

Insecure. All these little boys, so insecure because they got beaten by a girl. They never stop to consider that maybe they got beaten because she's better or smarter.

"So for Junkman's last proof of worthiness the council decided he had to give the members some bounty hunter. The plan is he catches the snatch and passes it around to the members before he does her. She's part of the coronation."

My blood ran cold. This was worse than I imagined. If it had to happen, a sudden death is good; but never, never let Stephanie have to experience such brutality as gang rape. If it happened, I would be single-handedly responsible for removing the Slayers as a presence in Trenton forever.

Stephanie left the bathroom at this point. I think the pictures of what could happen to her were too much for her to handle, because I hadn't even drawn blood yet. I motioned for Tank to continue while I exited.

I closed the bathroom door behind me and squatted in front of her on the couch. She looked really pale and like she might faint. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It was getting boring, so I thought I'd take a nap." You gotta admire that type of spunk.

"We're almost done with Anton Ward. Do you have plans for him?" Somehow, I doubted it, if she couldn't even manage to hit him. But I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I had more experience in getting rid of people, and I would take care of it for her if she needed me to do so. It wouldn't be the first person I've killed for her. But I also wanted to give her the option of handling it herself.

"I was going to revoke his bond and put him back in jail."

Interesting approach. "And the reason for this?"

"He agreed to wear a PTU and then refused when we got him released, escaping out the bonds office bathroom window before we could install the unit." Again, I was impressed. She really had a plan all thought out, and a damn good one. But she didn't need to dirty her hands with this any further. That's the beauty of having people work for you.

"I'll have Tank take care of it. We'll hold him over tomorrow morning, so we can get the paperwork straight." One last, crucial piece of information. "Did you bring him in blindfolded?" I asked.

"He was wrapped in a blanket. It was dark and I doubt he saw much." Damn, she was getting better at this. Or at least luckier.