CHAPTER 50

Finding My Feet

After breaking things off with Joe, Hector dropped me off at my apartment. He wanted to stay but I convinced him I needed some space. He didn't like it, but he understood. Ranger on the other hand had been harder to convince. Even though I was afraid to be alone in my apartment, I knew it was something I needed to conquer.

Before bed that night, I took a long hot bath to help myself relax. After I put on my nightshirt, I went through the apartment, checking to make sure the alarm was activated and both bolts were in place on the door. I also confirmed that all the windows were locked and made sure the bars were still firmly secured. But nothing I did made the general sense of unease go away.

I poured myself a glass of milk and fed Rex a baby carrot. While he ate, I leaned my elbows on the counter, contemplating the contents of the brown bear cookie jar beside his cage. "I know what you're thinking," I told Rex, "you're thinking that every time I take my gun out, someone gets shot." That's the real reason I hated my gun and why I resisted carrying it. Ranger scolded me all the time about leaving it in the cookie jar, but I just couldn't handle being the cause of one more person dying. Yet, I didn't want to be the one who ended up dead either. Even though my fears were valid, my brain was telling me I needed to use everything at my disposal to stay safe. The world was a dangerous place… mine more so than most.

To keep my hands from reaching inside the jar, I rubbed the top of Rex's head. "I know I'm supposed to be the adult here, but I have to tell you something. I'm scared." He looked up at me and then touched his nose to the tip of my finger. "You are the best guard hamster in the world, but you're a heavy sleeper. What if someone sneaks inside? Wouldn't it make you feel better tonight knowing I was armed?" Rex made a squeaking sound and twitched his whiskers. I took that for his agreement.

I slid the lid off the cookie jar and saw that my gun was resting against a new box of ammunition, but what puzzled me was the object lying beside it. "Where did this come from?" I asked Rex as I took the pearl handled stiletto out and examined it. I slid the safety off with my thumb and then pressed the button. The blade sprang out as quickly as a strike of lightning. It was dangerously sharp and looked to be nine inches long. A piece of paper was lying at the bottom of the jar written in Hector's handwriting. The note read, "Ranger cleaned and loaded your gun, but the knife is from me. When you are ready, I will teach you how to use it."

Hector could have given the knife to me personally and pressured me to learn how to use it, but he was leaving it up to me to make the decision on my own. The truth is that I've been wanting to learn the proper way to fight with a knife since Razzle Dazzle attacked me in the parking garage of the FBI, and everything that's happened in the last two months has only served to reinforce my desire. But I wasn't going to stop at that. I was also going to ask him to teach me how to pick locks and anything else he was willing to share.

I folded the blade back into the handle and pulled out my gun, checking to see if Ranger had indeed loaded it. It came as no surprise to find the clip was full. I put the lid back on the cookie jar and told Rex, "It'll be okay. I'm just going to keep these by the bed in case I need them tonight. Sleep tight, buddy." I left the kitchen light on and took the knife and gun with me into the bedroom. Between the light from the kitchen and the light spilling in from the bathroom, the shadows in the bedroom weren't as bad.

I put the gun on the nightstand and the knife under my pillow. Both were within easy reach. I got into bed and turned onto my side. Before Durant entered my life, I usually fell asleep within seconds. But that wasn't happening tonight. I kept hearing strange noises. Rationally, I knew they didn't have anything to do with an intruder wandering around my apartment, but I couldn't get my mind to settle down. I was jumping at each and every sound. Every time I closed my eyes, memories of the cellar or of Joe and Terry writhing against each other floated unbidden through my mind. After tossing and turning for what seemed like forever, I finally gave up and did the last thing anyone expected.

I dressed warmly and laced up my tennis shoes before strapping on the thigh holster that Hector had gotten me for Christmas. I grabbed my gun from the nightstand, fitting it into the holster and for extra measure slipped the stiletto between my boobs. Safety was now my middle name.

Even though it was eleven at night, thanks to the streetlights and the full moon, I was able to see clearly enough to know where I was going. I gave Cal and Lester a wave as I passed by their black SUV in my parking lot. They immediately got out and began jogging after me but kept their distance. Instead of being angry at having babysitters, I was kind of relieved to know I wouldn't be out here all alone.

I took off in the direction of my old high school. The sound of my feet hitting the pavement in the frigid midnight air made me feel free. For the first time in two months, I wasn't afraid. I made a few rounds on the track, but my mind hadn't quieted. The images were still tormenting me. I needed to force my brain to turn off. I left the football field and made my way down the street to the park, Lester and Cal still following. I needed something more challenging and the dirt trail around the small lake might provide that.

I pushed myself hard, managing to dodge rocks and fallen limbs which provided a good distraction for all the ugly thoughts that plagued me. On my second time around the lake, I started to run out of steam. While I walked the rest of the way, I began thinking about what my next step was going to be. Getting back to work was essential. I was healing more every day and could handle some of my lighter cases—even with my broken hand. Plus, the longer I acted like a victim, the weaker I would become. I needed to grab the bull by the horns and get back out there. With my decision made, I was feeling energized. Pumped.

Now that I'd decided to go back to work, I realized how unprepared I was to continue doing that job. But I had bills to pay and I liked the flexibility that being a bounty hunter offered. What I needed was to get better training. I was already making strides with my fitness by running, but there was more I could do. Along with asking Hector to teach me knife fighting and lock picking skills, I needed to follow through on the rest of the promises I made to myself while I was in the cellar. Now that I'd made it out alive, I was going to keep my vow to learn self-defense and I was going to make target practice a priority. Having firm goals helped me to feel better.

I made my way back to my apartment building. Les and Cal followed me to my door and made sure I was safely inside before saying goodnight. After setting the alarm and both bolts, I took a quick shower and fell into bed. My eyes closed and when I woke up it was morning.

It was still early, but I got up anyway, and dressed in jeans and a hoodie, adding my Glock 19 to the holster at my hip—and tucking my new stiletto into my boot. Instead of Ranger with two guns and a knife, I was Stephanie Plum, woman bounty hunter with one gun and a knife. The love/hate relationship I'd had with my gun was now in the past. I was going to learn to feel comfortable carrying it. Never again would I feel helpless—not if I could help it.

When I walked into the bond's office, Connie gasped, and Lula looked at me bug-eyed and open mouthed. I hadn't told anyone I was coming in today, but that wasn't why they were shocked speechless. For the first time, I'd come to work locked and loaded, prepared to be an actual bounty hunter. Lula launched herself off the couch and gave me an entire body hug. "You're back!" She drew away, surveying me from top to bottom. "Things round here have been boring without your ass."

The commotion brought Vinnie out of his office. He gave me a once over. "Don't expect special treatment!" he said and then threw his hand in Lula's direction. "Get back to work!" He went back in his office, slamming the door behind him.

Things were back to normal.

"Are you coming back to work?" Connie asked.

"Yup. Got anything for me?"

"Here you go." She handed me a stack of folders. "You can have the cases Rangeman wouldn't take."

I flipped through the files, nodding when I realized I wouldn't have any trouble bringing these in. I signed the paperwork, gathered the folders, and turned to Lula. "You ready?"

"Since your hands broken, I'll drive," she said as we left the bond's office and made our way to her Firebird parked at the curb. She pulled a flyer out from under her windshield wiper and read it. "It's a coupon for a free month trial to that new all women gym that opened up on the next block." She handed the flier to me as she narrowed her eyes and frowned. "You think they were targeting me cause I'm full figured?"

I ignored Lula and read the flyer for myself. Kick It was printed across the top along with the many classes it offered. This might be the solution that I'd been looking for. "It says here they have self-defense classes. We might not get as much garbage thrown at us if we had a little training," I said.

"You might have a point, there. This job has destroyed some of my best outfits."

Was I really standing on the street debating whether to join a gym? What was this world coming to? I walked over to my Jeep and grabbed my own flyer from underneath my wipers, slipping it into my purse to think about later.

Elroy was first up on my list of skips to bring in. This wasn't the first time I'd had to return him to the system. Since his wife died, he'd become a regular troublemaker. This time he'd been arrested for throwing an empty bottle at a parked police car. I was pretty sure we'd find him at home sleeping off a bottle of hooch. Considering he was in his eighties, in both age and weight, I didn't think he'd be a problem.

I directed Lula to Elroy's small row house in the center of the Burg. We parked behind his light green 80's model Chrysler, blocking him in. I knocked on the front door before calling out. "Elroy? It's Stephanie Plum. You missed your court date. I'm here to give you a ride to reschedule." There was no answer. I turned the knob and the door opened. As expected, he was face down on the couch, with an empty bottle of cheap bourbon on the floor. "Help me get him in the car," I asked Lula.

"Me?" Lula said in a high soprano voice. "I'm not touching him. He smells like moth balls and month-old bologna." She scrunched her face up, thinking hard. "Why do old people always smell like mothballs?" That was a good question… and one I didn't have the answer to.

"Elroy?" I yelled, trying to rouse him. "Time to wake up."

"Wha… ," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"It's time to go." I helped him get his shoes on and we stumbled out the door. Going to the station was going to be tricky. I didn't want to run into Morelli. Officially, we'd only been broken up for one day and no one knew about it except for Hector and Mary Lou. Grudgingly, Lula pulled up to the station door and I helped Elroy out of the backseat. I propped him against the car while I leaned back inside. "Don't leave me stranded," I warned her.

She nodded earnestly and pointed at the pavement. "I'll be waiting right here in this very spot." I hoped she meant it because things between Ranger and me were awkward after our argument/disagreement Saturday morning and I didn't feel like asking him for a ride and I didn't want to get stuck here at the station where Morelli could corner me either.

Elroy was able to shuffle into the station with minimal assistance from me. He knew the drill. He plopped himself down on the bench and waited while I signed in with the desk Sergeant. Lucky for me, it was a new guy I hadn't met before, so I wasn't subjected to awkward questions about the cellar or Durant. Within five minutes, Elroy was processed, and I was on my way with the body receipt.

Eddie caught up with me in the parking lot. "Hey kid." He slung his arm around me, matching my stride. "How you doing?" He pulled me to a stop several feet away from Lula's Firebird. She hadn't spotted us yet. She had her sound system turned up and the car was bouncing as she danced in her seat.

"I'm good." I paused to swallow; my throat feeling like something was stuck in it. Eddie's eyes were filled with regret and something akin to pity. "Thanks for looking for me while I was… you know."

"Anytime, Steph." He gave me a warm smile and changed the subject. "You wouldn't happen to know what's up with Morelli, would you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"He's been coming down hard on the rookie's today. They're about to piss their pants."

Sometimes Eddie let things slip to his wife, my cousin Shirley the whiner. Telling him that Joe and I broke up was a risk I couldn't take, but I could do him one better. "Did you place a bet on when Joe and I would get married?"

"I plead the fifth." He smiled without remorse.

I snorted. "How much is the pool worth?"

"It's up to fifteen grand." He nodded his head like I should be proud of that accomplishment. "Everyone thinks you'll be hitched by summer."

"What happens if we never marry?"

"Uh." His eyes bugged out and his mouth hung open. "Only two people picked that option."

I stifled a satisfied laugh because if I wasn't mistaken, I knew he was one of them. "You and who else?"

"Sorry, Steph." He studied the ground. "It's me and Robin Russell."

I nodded, pleased that she was going to profit as well as Eddie. If it had to be anyone, I'd rather it was the two of them. "I'm going to pay you back for all your help over the years. If you double down on your bet, you just might end up with enough money to take your family to Hawaii." I left him with his mouth hanging open and got in the Firebird.

"Let's hit the Tasty Pastry," I told Lula, "and then I want to check out the new gym."

"I'm down for the bakery," she gunned it out of the parking lot, "but I ain't so sure about that gym. I spent a lot of years perfecting this body."

The all-women gym was housed in an old warehouse on the corner of Fairmount and Hamilton, just a block away from the bond's office. We pulled into the parking lot and stared at the brick building, neither of us making an attempt to get out of the car. "It doesn't look inviting," Lula said.

She was right. The brick was chipped and had some graffiti at the corner. There were no windows along the front façade and the entrance was a black metal door advertising the gym's name, Kick It. "Come on." I grabbed my messenger bag and our flyers and got out of the car. To the right of the metal door, there was a small camera with a discreet sign advertising Elite Security. I pressed the buzzer and smiled into the camera. A second later the door opened, revealing a perky young woman with long red hair.

"Hi, I'm Rhonda. Welcome to Kick It." She held her arm out, inviting us to come inside. She made sure the door was closed behind us and said, "Are you looking for a fitness facility?"

"What's with all the security?" Lula asked as her head swiveled in all directions. "Do you have famous people working out here or something?"

Rhonda smiled politely. "We take the privacy and security of our members very seriously. You may exit anytime, but no one gets inside without someone personally opening the door. Right now, that's my job. That, and signing everyone in and out. You can be assured that you will be perfectly safe while you're within these four walls."

Her explanation was encouraging to the newly safety-conscious Stephanie and I was sure that Elite Security would do a good job. They were new to the area and were proving to be tough competition for Rangeman. According to some of the guys, Ranger was having a difficult time keeping contracts and securing new ones. I wanted to be supportive of him, but in this case, I was glad that Rangeman didn't hold the security account for Kick It. I didn't want him or his men knowing that I was getting training.

"I'm Stephanie and this is Lula," I said as I handed her our coupons. "These were on our windshields, so we thought we'd come check it out."

"That's wonderful." She took the coupons. "Let me show you around." We followed Rhonda out of the registration area and into the actual gym. I was pleasantly surprised to find a clean, up to date facility, decked out in top-of-the-line equipment that was both impressive and frightening. The external walls were exposed brick and the internal walls were painted in variations of teal. A juice bar was in the center of the gym with individual classrooms lining the right side while the left side of the building was filled with various types of machines and the locker room stretched across the back wall. The only thing missing was an indoor pool.

As we walked, Rhonda described the gym's offerings and how much it would cost after the free trial was over. Lula and I were in awe as we watched spandex clad women slip effortlessly from one machine to the next while others took part in classes that looked beyond my capabilities.

"We should sign up for this one," Lula said as we watched several women kicking and jabbing at bags.

Rhonda checked her roster. "There's no openings in this kickboxing class, but we have three openings in the one that meets Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 4 pm."

"Go ahead and put us down," Lula said without checking with me. "Stephanie and me are real good bounty hunters, but I'm always telling her you can never have too much training." Lula nodded her head as she imparted the sage advice that she'd never in her life uttered to me.

"Do you have any self-defense classes?" I asked as we took a seat at the small table in the juice bar.

Rhonda checked her roster again. "There are three slots available in a beginning Krav Maga class that's just starting. It meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 4 pm. The owner, Denise, is teaching it. She's a former MMA fighter." (Mixed Martial Arts.)

"That's impressive." I said. "But what exactly is Krav Maga?"

"It mixes several disciplines of martial arts with down and dirty street fighting. Since you're a bounty hunter, you would definitely benefit from this."

I thought she was onto something. My FTA's were anything but predictable. "Sign me up," I told her then glanced at Lula. "What about you?"

"I guess I could give it a try," she said, grudgingly.

I thought of Mary Lou and Valerie. "Do you have any more coupons? I have a couple friends that might be interested."

"Sure." She handed me several flyers and then waved to a strikingly beautiful woman standing by the counter. As the woman approached, I noticed her lean muscles flexing underneath her dark skin. "Stephanie and Lula, this is Denise. She's the owner." Rhonda turned her attention to Denise. "They're bounty hunters interested in self-defense training."

"It's nice to meet you both." Denise shook Lula's hand and then slightly narrowed her eyes when she reached for mine. "You're the Bombshell Bounty Hunter?"

I hated that name, but I nodded in the affirmative. "I'm hoping after taking your Krav Maga class, I'll have an easier time bringing in fugitives."

Denise slid the elastic out of her shoulder length dark hair and smoothed the flyaway's from her face before pulling it back into a ponytail again. While she repaired her hair, she studied me. "Learning the discipline will help, but it won't be easy."

I tried not to be insulted. The circumstances I usually found myself in were widely publicized and mostly not my fault. "I'm not looking for easy. Just a way to protect myself."

"I read about what happened to you." She gave me a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry." When I waved her sympathy off without commenting, she turned to Rhonda. "Have you given them a tour of the locker room facilities?"

"We were just about to head that way." Rhonda took a step toward the back of the gym. I had no intention of ever setting foot in that locker room or any other one—ever—so I declined. By the time Lula and I made it back to the Firebird, I was enrolled in kickboxing, yoga, and Krav Maga classes, and working out with a personal trainer two times a week. I was going to be spending a lot of time at the gym which I was fine with because the thought of being alone in my apartment didn't sound appealing.

Lula and I were heading back to the bond's office when my phone rang. "Ms. Plum, this is Special Agent Kinkade, could you meet with me Wednesday afternoon at the Newark field office?"

A heavy weight settled on my chest. "I thought the case was closed."

My voice must have conveyed my alarm because she rushed to reassure me. "It is closed. I didn't mean to make it sound like there was a problem, but I do have some information you might find interesting." When I didn't respond right away, she added. "Agent Hobbs won't be here."

I wasn't scared of Barry, but I didn't want to run into him either. "I can be there around one."

"Great, I'll see you then." Her voice sounded relieved; as if she'd been worried I'd refuse.

Lula looked over to me, expectantly. "Are you in trouble?" she asked as she parked at the curb outside the bond's office.

"No. Agent Kinkade just wants to talk to me one last time."

"You should take Ranger," she said. "I'd go with you, but the feds make my stomach cramp up real bad. It's worse than the runs I get at the cop shop."

"Ranger's got his own work to do," I said as I got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk.

She stepped up beside me but stopped before opening the door to the Bond's office. "Maybe you should call that lawyer?"

"It's just routine. No big deal."

Lula shook her head, mumbling something under her breath, and walked inside while I got in my car and called Hector to meet me at Sunny's gun range. I could have used Ranger's gun range, but I was trying to maintain some space—for both our sakes. Hector had been thrilled when I asked for his help in getting more comfortable with my gun. He even offered to teach me how to defend myself with a knife and how to pick any lock on the market. All my plans were coming together.

I watched Hector through the clear bulletproof glass as he shot several rounds into the paper target. He was calm and focused. I wasn't even sure he was breathing. Two of his shots went in the head, one inch apart, two in the heart, the same distance apart, and the rest went in the bullseye. He was showing off, but I didn't mind.

When it was my turn, he nodded to me in the lane beside him. I took up a position similar to how he'd been standing, being careful to compensate for my left hand. I shot my clip in the same pattern: two to the head, two to the heart, and the rest in the bullseye. After finishing the clip, I took off the safety glasses and pushed the button to bring my paper target forward. My shots weren't as precise as Hector's had been, but I thought I did pretty good. Much better than the times when Ranger had taken me to the range. It must have something to do with my libido. Having Ranger sharing the same space with me is enough to distract any woman.

Hector came around to stand behind me. "You did well," he said. "It is no wonder you were awarded the Robin Hood sharp-shooter award. You are a natural."

I gave him a puzzled look. How did he know about that? We hadn't even met when I shot Jimmy Alpha in the heart five times, all within an inch of each other. He smiled mysteriously and gave me a couple tips to relax my stance before going back to his lane. When each of us finished our box of ammunition, we called it quits. I left the gun range feeling more comfortable with my gun than I ever had.

Hector came to a stop in the parking lot next to my Jeep. "Mama has been asking about you. Will you have dinner with us tonight?"

I quickly nodded. The last time I saw his mama was on Christmas Eve. So many things had happened since then. "I should have gone to see her already," I said as I looked down at the pavement, a tremor of shame washing over me.

"She understands."

Since I loved riding in his pride and joy, 1970 El Camino, I said, "Follow me back to my apartment and I'll ride with you." As I drove home, I thought back to the first time Hector introduced me to his mama. It was a few months ago, before Thanksgiving. She welcomed me into her home as if I were her long-lost daughter. "It's nice to meet you Mrs. Sanchez," I greeted her formally.

She kissed me on both of my cheeks and smiled. "None of those stuffy formalities. You are family. Call me Mama," she insisted.

I could tell right away she wasn't to be argued with. "Okay, Mama," I conceded. She was a small woman with black hair threaded with strands of silver. I knew she'd been young when she had Hector and his brother, so I placed her in her mid-fifties.

"Hector has told me all about his Angelita," she gushed as she pulled me into her kitchen and pushed me down into a chair at her table. "You come see me anytime. You do not have to wait for this one to bring you," she motioned toward Hector. While she had her back turned, Hector reached into a bowl and stole a tortilla. As if she had eyes in the back of her head, she grabbed Hector by the ear. "Put that back. You will ruin your dinner." I had just taken a drink of water and almost snorted it through my nose at the look of fear on his face.

I pulled into my parking lot and Hector pulled in beside me. I got out and jumped in his car, still smiling about the memory of him getting his ear pulled by his mama. "What has put that smile on your face," he asked me.

"I was just remembering the first time I met your Mama."

"She will be glad to see you. She has been asking about you every day."

I nodded but didn't say anything. Hector and his Mama are very close. While I was in the cellar, she would have been worried for me, but also for Hector. He carries a heavy weight on his shoulders for those that he loves. On one of my visits, Hector left the room and Mama told me about her son, Felipe, and her granddaughter, Marquita, who were gunned down in a drive-by shooting. She said she could barely sleep back in those days. It had been bad enough that Felipe was in the gang, but when Hector also joined, she almost lost her mind with worry. After their deaths, Hector went to a dark place and Mama feared she'd lost him as well. Then one day, after months of being gone, he came home to stay and there was no more talk of the gang. She'd given me a pointed look and we both understood that he had gotten justice for his family in the only way a man like Hector would accept. Since then, he'd moved them to a nicer neighborhood and gotten an honest job at Rangeman. Now that Hector was making good money, Mama didn't have to work, but she volunteered at an at risk youth center to give back to the community.

Her story broke my heart. I recalled how I reached out to wipe the tear making its way down her face. She put her hand on my wrist, pressing my hand against her cheek and said, "You are good for him, Estefanía."

I was pretty sure Mama had it wrong. Hector was the one who was good for me. I looked over at him. He was staring at the road as he drove toward his home and the only family member he had left. I reached over and put my hand on top of his on the gear shift. "So, what's for dinner?" I asked to get myself out of my depressing funk.

He graced me with a dazzling smile. "Mama is making your favorite, picadillo sencillo, tortillas, and arroz con leche." Which was basically Mexican beef stew, and rice pudding with raisins on top. He chuckled when my stomach growled loudly in the quiet car.

We pulled up in front of their house and Mama came out. After she fussed over me for several minutes, we went inside and ate. Now that my belly was full, we migrated to the living room with mugs of Champurrado (hot chocolate made with maize and cinnamon). "Turn on the show," Mama said to Hector. "I want to see what Victoria and Max have been up to today."

I looked at him in question and then remembered Triunfo del amor. He smiled and picked up the DVR remote. I soon learned that Mama liked to hold a commentary as she watched her telenovela. She yelled and called the characters idiots as if they could hear her. I was entertained and a little scared to hear the many plans of revenge she devised for the demise of her least favorite character, the conniving Victoria. I had no doubt where Hector learned to instill fear in everyone. But oddly enough, watching Hector argue with his Mama about the characters sent a peaceful joy through me. That is until they tried to enlist me to take one side against the other. I had to bite my lip and shake my head for fear of accidentally siding with one of them. I was not getting in the middle of that.

By the time we got back to my apartment, I was ready to practice my lock picking skills. He had a clear model of a dead bolt that could be split in half. I was able to see how the insides worked. It helped to know where I was supposed to stick the metal pick and where I was supposed to jiggle the tension wrench.

At ten o'clock, he got up and made his way to the door. He paused at the threshold. "I can stay," he said, looking at me with so much concern in his eyes.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay," I tried to reassure him, but even I didn't believe my lie.

He pulled me into a hug. "You will get through this. I will be here for you. Whatever you need."

That night, when I laid down on my bed, it was a repeat of the night before. Sleep eluded me. My brain swirled with horrible thoughts and images. More than once, I thought I glimpsed Durant in the shadows of my room. I was starting to doubt my sanity. Where there used to be light, there was only darkness now.

My mind kept coming back to this documentary I watched months ago. They were describing black holes and what it was like to cross the event horizon. Evidently, there is no light—no air—no anything. If you fall into one, it rips you apart and swallows the pieces. That was exactly how I felt. I was standing on the edge of the hole and teetering. Sometimes I got tired of keeping my balance and thought about letting go.