Disclaimer: The characters belonging to Janet Evanovich are used strictly for entertainment purposes.

A/N: Quick reminder that Italian is still depicted by italics and the next chapter will go up on Thursday this week since the schedule is slower for the next two!

…

Chapter 18

After we showered, Ranger called Marotta's house to arrange a meeting. He told whomever he spoke to that he had some information about Camila and my jaw dropped. The meeting was confirmed for two hours from now and he hung up.

"You played the Camila card? I can't pretend to be her."

"Don't have to, we just needed to get in to see him."

Before I could reply, his Droid phone chirped and he looked at the display. I saw Lester's name and he met my eyes before answering the call. "Talk."

Lester's deep voice sounded garbled from where I stood. Ranger's half of the conversation brought more questions than it answered.

"Nothing?" He paused to listen and said, "This guy didn't disappear." Another pause. "What was the amount?" He clenched his jaw. "That's a lot of affection."

I wrinkled my forehead, trying to guess what the conversation was about.

"We're paying a visit to Marotta this afternoon." Pause. "Stephanie, too." He listened and his eyes flicked to me. "Told them I have info on Camila." He looked over at the window. "I know who he is, mother hen."

Ranger lowered the phone with a smirk. "Hung up on me."

My eyes widened slightly. "He did?"

"I pissed him off."

Some things had definitely changed since I'd been gone, such as people hanging up on Ranger. Although, given his current state of animosity toward Ranger, it wasn't surprising Lester had done it, especially after being called a mother hen.

"What was that about?"

"Lester found out Marotta put out a hit on Rubiano. A million Euros."

"For Camila."

He nodded. "I'd say he was upset."

No shit. "Safe to assume he didn't have anything to do with my kidnapping?"

"I won't rule out anything until I talk to him."

I went to my suitcase and Ranger took me gently by the shoulders and led me over to the built in wardrobe. I opened the doors to discover that the clothing fairy had left a few outfits for me. I turned to Ranger and pointed to the hangers, eyebrow raised.

"Lester," he said.

"Lester bought more clothes for me?" Maybe the mother hen thing was right.

"Lester ordered clothes for you from a boutique we've worked with in the past. You needed something more conservative and traditional."

I shook my head, amazed. "Is there anyone in any city you don't know?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "I haven't spent much time in Helsinki." It was good to have him back to normal. It'd been difficult to witness his anger at Marco earlier.

The eye roll was involuntary, or so I told myself. "Okayyy." I turned back to the closet and studied the outfits.

Ranger called Walker and told him about our plans. When he hung up, he came up behind me and nuzzled his nose into my neck and drew in a long breath. "See anything you like?"

I closed my eyes briefly when he kissed the spot on my shoulder where he'd bitten me and then opened them to look over the outfits. I reached in and pulled out a navy blue suit with a cream blouse and matching blazer. "Well, I can handle this one."

He kissed me a final time and pulled a suit out from the wardrobe. "We'd better get dressed, we need to leave soon."

…

Twenty-five minutes later I joined him in the living area wearing the navy suit. The pencil skirt had a hem that fell just above my knee. The blazer had short sleeves to accommodate the heat and I'd found a cameo brooch in its pocket to pin to the throat of the high-necked cream silk blouse. There was also a beige clutch, beige peep toe kitten heels with a modest two-inch heel, and pearl drop earrings.

I kept my makeup simple. Only one coat of mascara, minimal colors, and pink lip gloss. Since my hair was still so short, there weren't a lot of options for fixing it, but I tamed my curls so they weren't quite so wild flying around my head. If I was going to meet a mafia leader with traditional values, I wanted to be as classy as possible. From my dream of Marotta, I knew he was the type of man who expected it.

Ranger had been standing at the window and walked over to draw me into his embrace. "Looks good on you." His black suit looked expensive with its crisp white dress shirt, top button undone, no tie. It fit him as if it were tailored for him and probably was.

"Don't get used to it. I feel like I need a hat and a cart and I could pass for an American Airlines employee. Who picked out this outfit? I want to have a chat with her … or him."

He smiled and kissed me. "Marotta will appreciate it and that's the point today."

"Yeah." My brow wrinkled with worry. "Have you ever met him before?"

"Once or twice. He may not remember me." The tone of his voice said he doubted it and I did, too, given the type of man I'd seen Seppe to be in my dreams. "He'll be happy to see you since he thought Camila was dead."

"It's so weird that I had fake deaths in two different lives. I should write a book."

"That can be your next project."

"Seriously, why would someone go through all the trouble of creating a death for me in Trenton, producing convincing evidence of it, even paying off public employees, so they could move me into a fake life, only to repeat the action to dump me and let me return to my real life again?"

Ranger shook his head, a minuscule movement I caught out of the corner of my eye. "I don't know, but we'll find out. Maybe Marco has more information. I shouldn't have lost my cool."

"It's okay. I didn't handle the whole affair thing very well, either." I mentally kicked myself for going there.

His eyes narrowed. "Let's drop it." His eyes swept down my body. "If I start to dwell on it, we won't leave this room for a long time. I have the urge to remind you again who you belong to."

His words sent a ripple through my pelvis. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy it, but you don't need to remind me of anything. I know who has my heart."

He tugged me against his chest and ravaged my mouth in a very thorough kiss, sliding his hands down my body, molding me to him. I pressed my hips against his and we both made a noise at the contact because it felt good and it wasn't enough.

My head spun when he abruptly ended the kiss and stepped back, hands holding my waist to keep me steady. His breathing wasn't as steady as before and mine was more at a marathon pace. "Gotta stop, babe. We need to leave."

I nodded and licked my lips. My lip gloss was gone. I looked at Ranger, but there wasn't a trace of it on him, of course. With a headshake, I reached into my clutch and pulled out the lip gloss I'd tossed inside, applying it once more. "No more kisses."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Do you want to leave?"

He grinned and opened the door. "Later," he whispered against my hair when I passed him. I so loved later.

…

The drive to Marotta's estate was pleasant once we got outside the city. I'd refused to look while Ranger navigated through the city traffic, without angry Ranger to divert my attention, the traffic was still disturbing and that was saying a lot since I was a born and bred Jersey driver. Then rental car had two things going for it: good breaks and good maneuverability. It wasn't a Porsche or even a BMW, but it was black and relatively comfortable.

I stared out the window as we left the hustle and bustle of the city behind, watching the past and present roll by. Old, scenery, old buildings, new cars, new people. The blend was bittersweet. My past was so screwed up, I could understand how difficult it was that times had passed, things and people had died off, and the new had crept in to fill the voids.

"Deep thoughts?"

I smiled when he spoke. He'd often said those words to me in the past. "That question always makes me wonder."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Do you ask because you want to know what I'm thinking or because you're surprised I can take my life seriously?" I grinned, teasing him.

"Babe."

Just like old times. Almost.

I sighed. "I'm just thinking about time and how it changes things, people. I've never given the past much thought before, but now it's more important than ever before. History. It makes us all who we are."

"Sometimes history isn't who we are," he said, grabbing my hand.

"What if I allowed my life to become what this Camila person was because I secretly wanted it that way?"

He flashed a "don't be absurd" look at me. "Can you honestly say you wanted someone to control your life that way? That you liked having all of your choices taken from you?"

When he put it that way … "No, I'm sure I didn't, but I didn't fight it."

"Maybe you couldn't."

"That doesn't make sense. If I didn't like it, I could have. I'd never let you or Morelli tell me what to do before, and you were both very important to me."

"You didn't choose to become Camila, right?"

I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes. "No."

"Someone made you into her. Somehow, she was put into your head. We agree on that?" He downshifted to round a curve and I watched his strong, muscular hands, mesmerized for a moment. "Right?"

I blinked. "Sorry, right. Someone put her in my head."

He downshifted again when we caught up to slower traffic. "Maybe you just couldn't act any other way than how "Camila" would have acted, because that's all the information they gave you."

I blew out a breath. "This just seems so unbelievable. I wouldn't believe it if it hadn't happened to me. I almost don't blame Marco for doubting me, you know?"

He grimaced at the mention of Marco's name. "We're getting closer to figuring it out."

We slowed down even more as a large truck turned off onto a side road, then the line of traffic picked up speed. I looked down at my nails, tracing my thumb over each edge. "What am I supposed to say to this guy?"

Ranger grabbed my hand and lifted it up to kiss my knuckles. "Just be yourself and be honest. We're going there to find out who ruined your life, not give him Camila. Follow your instincts."

"Okay, I can do that."

Too soon, I had to test my instincts. We stood in front of a light peach colored stucco villa with a tan clay tile roof. The house was huge with at least two wings that I could see, several balconies, and beautiful, shining windows. Along the east side of the house was a huge manicured garden with a large, hexagonal aviary on the far end of the garden under a canopy of trees. The sound of the birds chirping and singing was a cheerful greeting to all who came up to the main front doors. The bright sun shining overhead cast a cheerful ambiance on the scene. It was almost like a fairytale, except for the nightmare that brought us here.

When Ranger pressed the doorbell, a classic ding, dong sounded, and a few moments later a butler opened the door and said in Italian, "Good afternoon."

He was young, probably in his mid to late twenties, with thick black hair trimmed short, about my height, and wore a black suit with a bowtie. Incredibly formal. I thanked my lucky stars I'd chosen the conservative outfit in my wardrobe.

"I am Carlos Mañoso. I have an appointment with Signore Marotta." Ranger inclined his head politely as he spoke, exuding respect for the man in the house. The butler frowned slightly and then he looked at me. Surprise replaced formality.

"Signora Rubiano? You're alive?" He completely forgot about Ranger then. He looked stunned.

I didn't want to lie, so I avoided his question. "Is Seppe ready for us? We need to see him immediately." I wasn't sure how best to go about saying "surprise, I'm not dead", but talking to him as soon as possible seemed like a good step.

"I will bring Il Signore immediately." He motioned us into the large two-story entryway. I took in the white walls, oak and iron accents, and the brownish-orange tile flooring. There were large windows near the upper part of the entryway that let in a lot of sunlight. The room felt warm and inviting and might have settled my nerves if I'd been coming here to meet my boyfriend's parents. Meeting a mafia boss was another story.

The butler turned and led us through the door beneath a staircase to the left into a room which turned out to be an office. He bowed slightly and said, "Il Signore will be very happy to see you." Then he bowed slightly and left, closing the door behind him.

The office was done in very masculine accents. A large oak desk, gray slate fireplace, oak wood flooring with a large area rug in the center of the room in deep red, cream, and charcoal. Ranger led me to a pale gray loveseat against the wall across the room from the fireplace and sat, pulling me down next to him and slipping his arm around my shoulders. He toyed with my curls and wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck to pull me in so he could kiss my temple. I crossed my legs and leaned my head against his shoulder.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Marotta burst into the office as if he'd been walking fast. He looked the same as he had in my dream: short, but with an undeniable presence. His dark hair had been recently cut shorter than it had been. I noticed a few gray streaks at his temple that I didn't remember from the dream, but perhaps it was due to the haircut. He was dressed expensively, most likely Armani, and he held himself with grace and strength.

Ranger and I stood to greet him. He only had eyes for me. He searched my face, looked me over from head to foot, and then relaxed slightly. "So, it is you. I admit I nearly fired Alfonso when he told me you were here."

God, I felt bad. I knew he cared about her and it must have hurt him to think she was dead. It was the way I felt about my own father when I found out everyone back home thought I was dead. A strange sense of déjà vu clouded my thoughts. "Seppe." I held out both hands to him as I'd seen my alter ego do in my dream and he captured them. "It's good to see you again." It was easy to mean the words.

"Orlando has much to explain," he said after he'd kissed both of my cheeks. Who the hell was Orlando? He stepped back and took my face into his hands. His face held no expression, but his eyes weren't quite calm. "You look wonderful."

I blushed slightly and smiled. "Thank you. Carlos has taken excellent care of me."

Seppe turned to Ranger with an outstretched hand and said, "Signore Mañoso, I cannot express my gratitude enough for bringing her home." I didn't know if he remembered Ranger or if Alfonso had provided the name.

Ranger shook his hand. "No thanks necessary."

I put a hand on Ranger's arm and said, "Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?" I didn't want to drag this out any longer. I suspected he wouldn't be happy when he found out the truth.

He eyed Ranger for half a beat and then gestured toward the door. "Lunch is about to be served. Will you join me?" He was careful, most likely wary and curious about how Ranger fit into all of this. I could tell he didn't like not knowing what had happened to Camila. Still, he was relieved to see me. I hoped he would still be happy when we told him the whole story. "Rinaldo made your favorite: mezzaluna."

My stomach growled just then and Seppe turned toward me with a slight smile and then went through the door out to the entryway. We made our way into a dining room which I couldn't have described later if my life depended on it. Truthfully, once we left the office, the smells wafting toward us had me practically drooling. I got fleeting glimpses of silver, china, crystal, and an ornately carved dark oak dining table and matching chairs.

Ranger and Seppe stood looking at me, Ranger by my chair and Seppe beside his own. I looked at both of them and Ranger glanced toward my seat and back up at me. Realization dawned and I smiled, allowing Ranger to seat me in my chair. Once I was settled, both men sat and the silver lids were lifted from the matching dishes full of aromatic food.

Again, the men waited for me, but I was quicker this time. I grabbed the large silver spoon from the dish of mezzaluna and spooned a hearty helping onto my plate. The dish was incredible. Half-moon shaped pouches of pasta stuffed with chicken and tossed with marinated shrimp in a fragrant, spicy red sauce.

"Amazing," I said after my first bite before I could stop myself.

The room froze and I glanced up at Seppe. He sat calmly, hands folded on the edge of the table in front of him, a carefully expectant expression on his face. I looked at Ranger who gave me a slight nod. Now or never.

I turned back to Seppe and spoke in English since the cat was out of the bag. I cleared my throat and said, "Orlando isn't the only one with a lot to explain."

The tight, cold smile on Seppe's face wasn't encouraging. "I'm listening … for now."

"Signore," I began.

"You may call me Seppe."

"Seppe," I began again. "I'm not who you thought I was, obviously." Dumb, dumb, dumb! Why couldn't I be better at explaining? "What I mean is, the person you knew isn't real. I wasn't myself."

His head tipped a little to the left, but his face gave away nothing of his thoughts. He turned to Ranger and said, "Signore Mañoso, do you have anything to do with this deception?"

Ranger leaned back in his seat and fixed an impassive look on Seppe. "No. What Stephanie," he gestured to me, "was trying to tell you is that she was a victim, just as you were."

"I don't have patience for this kind of thing. Begin your story before I lose my temper." I suspected it was not a good thing when he lost his temper.

I took a deep breath. "My name is Stephanie Plum. Roughly ten months ago, I was kidnapped from my home. A death was staged to make my friends, my family … and Carlos," I nodded toward Ranger, "think I was dead. Shortly after that, I came here to live with you." He seemed to be holding onto his patience so far, so I continued. "I wish I could say I remembered it, but I don't. Not in the traditional sense. I've been having these … dreams, flashbacks. I found out that I thought I was a woman named Camila. In my first flashback, I was here, with you. We went to your cemetery."

"I remember," he said. "Excuse me, but you are trying to tell me that you were not aware of your true identity?"

I nodded. "It is exactly what I'm telling you. Carlo," my throat tightened at the thought of him and I swallowed, "is—was Carlos's son. I woke up in Paris a few days ago and had no idea how I got there. I didn't even know I'd had a baby at the time."

Seppe gave a slight shake of his head and then leaned forward to spoon some of the pasta onto his plate. "Eat before your food gets cold. I want to think about this."

I looked at Ranger, who was now serving himself, and he did something with his eyes that felt a little to me like he was saying 'Don't worry', but I couldn't be sure.

The pasta with the explosive flavor I'd loved, now tasted bland and boring in my mouth. I was worried and sad. I ate mechanically, taking small bites and chewing slowly before swallowing. I didn't want to offend Seppe anymore than I already had.

The wine was poured by a white-coated server and I drank that, too, not tasting or smelling it. It was very easy for me to sink into self-pity for all I'd lost.

I jumped when Seppe spoke, finally, after wiping his mouth with his linen napkin and tossing it down onto the table beside his plate. "Orlando Costa." He didn't have a deep voice, but it held power and carried weight behind it. The name bellowed through my chest after he'd spoken. "My gut tells me he is involved."

I glanced at Ranger and gave a slight shrug. "I'm sorry, Seppe, but who is Orlando Costa?"

"One of my people. Lives in New Jersey."

My fork clattered onto my plate and I slapped my hand on top of it to silence the noise. "Trenton? Newark?"

Seppe leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. "Trenton. How did you guess?"

"I grew up in Trenton. That's where I lived when I was taken." The words seemed to come from someone else, though they made perfect sense. Finally, a real clue, but I still didn't know who this Orlando was.

Seppe's smile was frigid and he sat up and put his hands on the armrests of his chair. "Then you would know Orlando as Harry."

Ranger's low, angry voice filled my ears, but it was the "Harry the Hammer" he spit out that caught my attention. Only one question surfaced in my fuzzy mind: Why?