Navigating Nine Chapter 2
Disclaimer: Janet's characters. Mostly her plot right now.
Note: Moonbeam isn't always the most mature about things…
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"So you gonna tell me what's wrong with you and Batman or I gotta bust a cap in your ass too?"
"You didn't bust a cap in his ass. You kicked his ass… actually you kicked a lot of things… I've heard they're doing really good with testicle retrieval now…"
"Screw his testicles. What's with you and Batman?"
I grimaced. "I don't know."
"What you mean you don't know?" she demanded as we pulled out of the lot.
"I said I don't know. I haven't talked to him much. I spent most of the last six weeks sleeping or talking with Jack or letting the guys teach me how to play cards." It had been endless fun for them due to my hopelessness with all things numeric and it was fun for me because they actually had conversations during card games. Glimpses into the male psyche were fun, and just a little disturbing. Glimpses into these particular male psyches were both those things times a thousand. Now if I could just get a damned glimpse into Ranger's psyche…
"You livin' in the Bat Cave and you ain't talked to him?" Lula was staring at me like I'd grown a second head.
"He gets up at five and then he gets home and weird hours. I don't know… then he had a trip to like Miami or somewhere." I kept my eyes on the road and bit my lip.
"No wonder you been out of it. And you haven't even had sex?"
"Nope. Totally sans sex."
"You in the same room as he is, right?"
"Dude, I was all shades of purple and scabby. I wasn't letting him see me naked." Again.
"Good point. There's a lot of pressure bein' naked in front of Batman."
"Yeah." And there was silence for a few beats. "Want to grab some ice cream?"
"Hell yes. Gotta keep our strength up, takin' out hostile fugitives."
I turned off halfway to the office, at a little place I'd found during my first week as Stephanie Plum. They had great ice cream, but their smoothies ruled the universe.
"Girl, you can't be serious," Lula shook her head at me. "What happened to you? Used to be you had good taste in food. Maybe you're right. You spent too long in that Bat Cave."
Considering that Tank had the eating habits of a teenage football player, and Lester thought pizza was a food group, my taste for healthier food wasn't really a Bat Cave thing, but I just shrugged.
"I like smoothies."
"You're weird."
She had no idea.
Lula and I sauntered into Plum Bail Bonds, sipping our respective frozen treats and discussing the merits of Will Smith.
"Where the hell have you been?" Vinnie yelled. He was mad, and his voice had gone up a couple octaves. He sounded like a girl with a sore throat. "We called you fifteen minutes ago!"
"I was dropping off Balog," I shrugged, and sipped my smoothie.
"And you had time to stop for ice cream? This is a god damned emergency—"
"Ranger's not here yet," I pointed out.
Vinnie's eyes narrowed. "He's on his way." And he took a deep breath for more yelling. I hated getting yelled at. If I paid much more attention, Vinnie was going to get his ass kicked and I'd have to ask Dad for a job. I heard the door open and knew Ranger had arrived because Vinnie stopped yelling and the hair on my neck stood up.
"So what's the sitch?" I asked Connie, walking around Vinnie to hand her the chocolate malt I'd gotten for her.
"Thanks. Steph," Connie said and gestured to the fat lady in a sari who was sitting in front of her, staring at me.
"This is Mrs. Apusenja, and this is her daughter Nonnie," Connie said, more calmly.
I eyed Mrs. Apusenja. Saris were not made for fat people. There were rolls in places I didn't want to think about, rolls cascading down from her halter top to her skirt. I tossed the rest of my smoothie into Connie's wastebasket.
The younger woman, Nonnie, was a few years older than me, around 30, but slender and with that exotic beauty and flawless dusky complexion that is apparently the birthright of Indian girls. If they could bottle that complexion, someone would be richer than Bill Gates. If I hadn't seen her mother, I might have hated Nonnie on principle.
"And this is Stephanie Plum, she's one of our bond enforcement agents."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," I said, extending my hand to Mrs. Apusenja. She looked down at my hand and crossed her arms over her chest. Okay, at least this meant I didn't have to be nice to her. I let my hand fall back to my side and nodded to Nonnie. "And you, miss."
Nonnie smiled and glanced at me but her eyes were glued on Ranger. I walked over and sat down on Lula's desk. Ranger had taken up a spot in a corner and I ignored the fact he was looking at me. I would deal with him when this scene was over.
"Mrs. Apusenja rented a room to Samuel Singh. Vinnie signed a visa bond for him. It made the paper today," Connie explained, handing me a clipping.
I looked down at the picture. It was black and white, and sure enough there was the familial weasel, shaking hands with a small Indian type guy. There were two shifty, used-car-salesman types, and in the background I could see Mrs. Apusenja and Nonnie.
"And Singh skipped out?" I guessed, feeling resigned. I knew this story. I'd already read it. In fact, I had a maddening urge to look for the fast forward button. I didn't want to live through this book. Although, it might mean I got a free trip to Vegas, but honestly, I had better things to do.
"Samuel would not do such a thing! He is an exemplary young man!" Mrs. Apusenja bristled. I raised an eyebrow. Yeah, lady. Whatever you say. And I bet Krispy Kremes are a healthy part of this balanced breakfast…
"Christ," Vinnie said as I handed the clipping back to Connie. "National print coverage on this thing. One week left and he goes missing? Why didn't he just come over to my house and feed me rat poison! It would have been an easier death…"
I resisted the urge to point out that rat poison probably didn't work on weasels. Then I had to resist the urge to wonder why someone else hadn't gone over to Vinnie's house and fed him rat poison.
"We think there might be foul play involved," Nonnie said. I couldn't quash a slight smile. Duh.
"Yeah right," Vinnie sighed. "Give me a refresher course on Samuel Singh…"
As Nonnie, Vinnie, and Mrs. Apusenja went over Samuel Singh's habits and routines I let myself space. I knew where Samuel Singh was. He was dead. Well, maybe not yet, but he would be. I was trying to go over the book in my head. It hadn't been my absolute favorite but I'd liked it well enough. Singh was a computer nerd, who had a crappy job at TriBro Tech, and he got involved in a computer game. The ultimate game, led by a psycho little game master named Clyde Cone. Or Andrew Cone.., the youngest one of the Cone brothers anyway, who owned TriBro. And the nature of the game was to kill the target. You hunted the target down and killed them, or some junk like that.
And of course, because Janet Evanovich was a twisted sadist, I was going to get named the target. Or the prize. Whatever. I was going to get hunted. So what would be my goal now?
Last time I had tried to just ignore the stalker and thereby avoid being kidnapped. I had avoided getting my arm branded, but I'd still been kidnapped. And lucky me, I got to kill the psycho instead of letting Ranger do it for me. Yay for girl power. Now if I could remember where Singh had been hiding, I could just go there, kick the shit out of him for being an idiot computer geek and doing something so stupid like getting in on a kill game, and then I could drag his sorry butt in for Vinnnie and get paid…
I glanced at Ranger. He was the man in black, wearing a Kevlar jacket, probably more weaponry than should logically fit on one body, and his hair was very Renegade- all long sexy and tied back. I refused to think the word 'ponytail' in connection to Ranger. Ponytails were for girls. Ranger was definitely not a girl. Thank Janet, or I'd have had to seriously rethink my sexuality.
Nonnie was talking about her dog, Boo. She even had a picture, which Lula handed me. Boo was a cocker spaniel poodle mix. I couldn't help thinking someone had probably been royally pissed about that one. Maybe not as pissed as say a Doberman poodle mix…
I handed the picture back to Lula. "Cute dog."
It was a cute dog. But again, a major difference between me and the person who was supposed to be sitting here. I felt no major stab of concern for the dog. Maybe because I knew where it was. The dog was fine, in Las Vegas probably, but it was fine. And maybe I felt unconcerned because I didn't like small yappy things.
I liked horses. I liked the coon dog I had when I was younger, even though it had an unfortunate tendency to sleep outside my window and bay at the moon. I wouldn't have minded the sleeping outside my window except that it made it really hard when I tried to sneak home drunk because I couldn't see it. You haven't known shock until you're tanked on Jager and you step on a sleeping hound, which promptly howls like you tried to kill it and leaps up, throwing you into a rose bush from which you have to be extricated by your dad's ranch foreman who's laughing so hard he's doubled over.
"We must leave now," Mrs. Apusenja announced. "Nonnie needs to get back to work."
Vinnie walked them to the door and stood watching them leave with a mournful expression. "There they go. Hell's message bearers." And he proceeded to angst. I let my thoughts drift back to my younger days. Okay, so it was like maybe four years ago, but it felt like a long time.
"You can find him, right?" Vinnie was asking Ranger.
The corners of Ranger's mouth tipped up and he inclined his head a fraction of an inch. "I'm gonna need help," he said. "And we're going to need to work out the fee."
"Whatever. You can have Stephanie."
I rolled my eyes and Ranger glanced at me, his smile widening. "Vinnie, have you ever heard of the women's rights movement? I'm not cattle."
Vinnie turned to glare at me.
"And before you say one word, think real hard about the phrase sexual harassment."
Vinnie's mouth shut with an audible click and he twitched. I loved making Vinnie twitch. It was one of my favorite games. Dance, weasel, dance…
"Thanks, Vinnie." I smiled brightly and put on my most innocent face. "Of course I'll help Ranger find Singh."
Vinnie blinked at me. "You'd better."
Connie handed Ranger a stack of papers, which he read through while Vinnie retreated into his office to sulk. I frowned, feeling deprived. I wasn't through. I hadn't even gotten to mention animal sex or anything. Only one twitch. Rats.
I wished I hadn't thrown my smoothie away. Then again, as my imagination presented me with a picture of Mrs. Apusenja's midriff, maybe I wasn't. I didn't really need to eat anyway.
"Babe?" Ranger asked.
Oh, sure, now you talk to me. "Yeah?"
He motioned toward the door and I sighed before I hopped off the desk and followed him out. "What's the plan, Higgs?"
"I'll take the neighborhood. You should talk to Singh's employers." Oh hell no.
"Nothing doing. I'll take the neighborhood. You deal with TriBrio."
Ranger's eyebrow lifted. "Problem?"
"Um, yeah. But I don't think you want it discussed in public. And if you're just talking about this case, then not really. Except that I'm not going anywhere near TriBro Tech."
He was frowning now. "Fine. You can come with me to check out the neighborhood."
I climbed into his truck and thought over my next choice of words carefully. "How was Miami?"
"Difficult," he said as the truck angled out of the parking lot.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Tonight. Why don't you want to go to TriBro?"
"TriBro is Creepy Central. And there was a case a few years ago where this chick was killed in a very icky manner and the police think Bart Cone did it but they can't prove anything."
"That makes things interesting."
"Yes, and so, I am not touching TriBro with a ten kilometer pole. You talk to them. They won't kill you. They're psycho, not stupid."
"They?"
Oops. "He. It. She. Possibly plural. You never know."
"Babe." He sighed, and I frantically tried to think of some way to change the subject.
"Have you been avoiding me?" Mouth, you and my Brain need to meet sometime.
Ranger's eyes slid away from the road to look at me. "I've been busy."
"Right. I know I'm not a girlfriend and I'm not going to get all demanding. But seriously if you can't talk to me with me living with you, I can always move out. I do still have an apartment. With stuff in it. And that way at least you'll talk to me. I miss talking to you," I added quietly.
"I've talked to you."
"Yeah. For entire thirty second intervals, even."
He sighed. "Can we talk about this later?"
"No. I'm applying pressure." I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. "We talk about it while I still have the guts to bring it up. Do you think I'm fat?"
"What?" He glanced at me, as if to make sure I wasn't high.
Oh, damn it. Why isn't my mouth attached to a shut-up filter? Well, hell, might as well do it right. "That's it, isn't it?"
"Are you still taking those pills?"
"Shut up about the pills. Fine, you get your wish," I said, pulling out my cell phone. At least I knew how to do this much. I could play hysterical girlfriend like none other. Even better, because I was pretty sure I actually was a quasi-hysterical semi-girlfriend.
"Who are you calling?"
"I'm calling Lula. I need a ride. Where are we?"
"You're not calling Lula."
"Yes I am." I sniffled for good effect. "Now let me the hell out. I'm going back to my apartment. I need Ben and Jerry's."
I caught only a blur of movement and the cell was yanked out of my hand. Ranger had excellent reflexes. Then there was a squealing of tires and we flipped a U-turn. I grabbed the handle over the door and yelped as my butt slit across the leather seats.
"Ranger, what the fuck—?" the question died on my lips as I looked at him. His jaw was set and he looked… grim. It was the look that made small third-world countries quiver with fear.
"Ranger?" I asked a little more quietly as we flew down a street.
No response.
"Higgs?"
Nada.
"Darth?"
Not even a quirk of the lips.
"Ranger, where are we going?" I asked, the first stirrings of fear beginning to skitter its way along my spine. I had just pissed off Rambo…