Chapter 7

We boarded a baby airplane. To say it was small was a gross understatement. I had to duck to get in. I'm five foot seven. Clearly, not a giant. My heart was beating loud in my chest. The plane had four seats. Four! Room for the pilot, and three passengers. No co-pilot, no peanuts. Tank sat in the seat next to the pilot, mostly because he couldn't squeeze into one of the back seats. He is a big boy. Tank was all muscle. He was a six foot one solid black man. All buzz cut and biceps from what I could see. Tank made Ranger look like a featherweight. On the way to the Phoenix Airport, I had tried without success to get information about this "You're not safe" baloney. It was like talking to a wall. Once, he looked over at me and said "Do you have any Aspirins?" That was it. As if he never heard me. The baby plane took off. I white knuckled the chairs armrests. The plane shook and jolted and tipped a few times as it gained speed and momentum.

"I thought Ranger liked you." I said. "Why would he risk you flying with me on this plane?"

I didn't think that had crossed his mind, his face flushed a little. I had successfully stressed out a man who I thought was a rock.

I tried again, with another approach. Hoping the fear of dying out here in the middle of BFE would make him talk. Tank has worked for Ranger since I started on this adventure of bonds enforcement. He rarely ever spoke. When he did, it was in one word sentences. Like, "No." or "Yes." Or his other large sentence. "Yes ma'am." and "Yes Sir." Or always my favorite "Run!"

His real name was not "Tank". His mother would not have been that cruel. As far as Tank was concerned she was worse than cruel. Tank's real name was Pierre. To him, it was a lot worse than Tank. I think Pierre was a family name. He is from the French Quarter of Louisiana. I was told that If I ever call him Pierre, he would never speak to me again.

Lula hooked up with Tank. The last I heard, she was going to meet his mother. What happened at that meeting got sort of lost in the big empty which is my life. I missed Lula. I had been so busy trying to stay away; I had lost contact with her. I asked Tank about Lula and what was going on since I had left.

Tank looked back into the tiny back seat.

"You comfortable?"

"No."

He smiled. "Lula is great. She met my mother, and didn't run. That's something."

I was instantly curious. "Why would she run?"

"My mother is a bit of a cat person."

"She keeps cats, or, she thinks she's a cat?

"A little of both." He let out a sigh and turned towards the window.

The flight lasted a gut wrenching hour. I was pretty sure the engine had almost quit twice. I kept looking at the pilot to see if this bothered him. He seemed calm, so I tried to practice some deep breathing. I looked around for a parachute. From where I was sitting, I could see mountain ranges and desert. Not an easy place to try to land if something went wrong. I prefer the ocean; at least you have the flotation devices under your butt. I spotted a parachute, and grabbed it. Pulling it to me. When the plane finally landed, I would have a firm grasp on which line to pull and when. Finally, I felt the training wheels hit ground and we landed. I did a few Hail Mary's for good measure. I took a deep stress relieving breath of air. This was a one-time shot, I thought. I was not about to get back into this plane for a ride home. I'd walk if I had to.

We landed at a little airstrip in Alamogordo. I noticed the air first. It was not only cooler, but thinner. We were at a higher elevation. Up in the mountains of New Mexico. For my honeymoon with Dickie Orr, we had gone to Aspen, Colorado to ski. After falling about 300 times, I had realized I needed to reconsider being an Olympic skier, and retreated to the bar at the lodge for lots of hot alcoholic beverages and sympathy. It was a nice honeymoon. One of the only times I had fun with that two timing jerk, Dickie. The air was similar here. The sun beat down on us, but it was more of a cool ninety instead of cooking hundred and twenty. The plane taxied over to an older Chevy Blazer. It was painted Camo-green and brown. Nothing like the black cars and trucks in Jersey.

"This yours?" I said to Tank, as we climbed inside.

"Nope, this is Ranger's truck."

"Ranger's truck? It's not black. I thought everything with Ranger was black. Where's your truck?"

I don't own a truck. I have a motorcycle. Put your seat-belt on, it's going to be a bumpy few miles."

Holy cannoli, where the heck was he taking me?

We drove through the city of Alamogordo. It was small but pretty. Lots of little businesses, shops and parks. Advertisements for RV camping and fishing tackle. Arrows pointing up roads with pictures of men and women skiing, others with caricatures walking up mountains, and indicating trailheads. Most people we saw had four-wheel drive cars. Subaru wagons, old and new, Some trucks and SUV's, a few Jeeps, and some hunting trucks like we had. We drove by three gun shops, two fishing tackle shops and a Camping World. As we motored out-of-town, the trees grew closer together. We pulled off onto a dirt road that looked as if it ran straight up the side of a mountain. I adjusted my seat belt, tightening it till it was snug against me, pressing me into the seat. I held onto the sissy bar, the dash, the door, the roof. Nothing stopped me from being tossed around.

"Jesus Christ, Tank. Where the hell are we going?" I screamed, as the truck tilted completely one way, than the other. Knocking my teeth together so hard, I may have chipped one of them. The truck persistently moved up the mountain at a slow crawl. The shocks clanging up and down with each rock it had to climb. I looked over at Tank. He was smiling ear to ear. I would have tried to talk to him more, but the jarring motion of the cab, had me at silence. I tried to look around to see just where we were going. The road was shrouded with trees and brush. The air was getting cooler, it was about 85 degrees now. The forest closed in on us and for the first time, I wondered if Tank had lost his mind. I remembered the movie where the girl was buried alive, and I checked on Tank again to see if he looked like he had lost his noodle. He looked pretty solid. Happy as a clam. But solid.

We were still crawling up the mountain fifteen minutes later. I was starting to get use to the climb. By no means was I comfortable, but I could see the top of the mountain now, and it wasn't that far off. The truck bucked down another dirt road, this one following around the top of the mountain. The road turned into a path that looked dangerously small, especially since my side of the truck bordered the cliff of the mountain. I moved closer to the inside of the cab, almost sitting on the console in the middle, as if believing that would keep me from falling out of the truck. I looked down; the tires were an inch away from the side of the cliff. An inch! Tank was still happy. So it was okay, right? If I panicked too much I would pee my pants. How would that look? I didn't want to ruin Ranger's seats. I looked again, seeing if anything would save us if the truck tipped the wrong direction. There was nothing but jagged rocks and some trees sticking out of the mountainside and a tiny little stream of water about 9000 feet below. Oh, crap. I held on tighter.

"Is this the only road up here?" I had to scream for him to hear over the trucks hardworking engine.

"No, there is a straight road in from the main highway."

"Wha..? Why are we taking this one then?"

Tank looked at me, "I thought you would like it. It's a very pretty road. The scenery is great."

The road finally turned flat and straight. I started seeing the backs of cabins, Some with cars parked on parcels of flat land and rock. We passed a few more. Each one separated by huge pine trees and about half an acre of land. We kept driving, Trees became more prevalent. Tank pulled into a rock drive that went up another small incline to a larger cabin sitting alone. There was another four wheel drive truck. We parked next to it. It was red. A ford F250 with big knobby tires. Not new, but not exactly what I would call old. The back of the cabin faced the road. I had no idea what the front of any of the cabins looked like. I was curious to find out. Light trickled out of a small window facing us. A wooden staircase with a primitive wood railing led up to a back door entrance. The cabin looked homey and inviting. Not at all a place that I thought Ranger would be.

I hesitated, and found myself thinking, my body would never be found way out here. No one knew where I was. I hadn't even told Vinnie where I was going. What if Tank freaked out, and he kidnapped me? And, well. That is just stupid. I took a deep breath and looked down at the shoes I was wearing. Chucks. They were good, but not all that great for climbing mountains escaping from psychos.

I looked up to see Tank watching me, almost laughing.

"Earth to Stephanie, you alright? You look scared. You aren't thinking of kicking me again, are you?"

"Me?" But my voice cracked and I gave myself away. I had been thinking about kicking him and running.

"C'mon." he said. "Let's go inside."

I checked the area, looking for an escape route. There were other cabins, clearly with people inside. Cars were parked; I could run to one of the neighboring cabins if things got weird. I followed Tank up the stairs. He opened the door to smells of good Italian cooking. The intoxicating smell of Basil,Pesto,Onion,and Garlic hit me as we walked in. I instantly lost all fear for my life. Food has a way of making me feel safe. If anyone really wanted to kidnap me, they could probably lure me away with the promise of a cookie if I was hungry enough. I saw Hal, and felt better. The back door led into the kitchen, the heartbeat of any home. Steam rose from pots on the stove in front of him. He was cooking . Hal was a huge stegosaurus of a guy, but I loved him and trusted him more than all the others. I had never seen him angry; he was the linebacker on the team so to speak. He was all muscle, like tank. Just more. He saw us and smiled.

"Stephanie… Nice tan, girl. You have been living the good life."

The kitchen was slightly larger than my parents, but not huge, and not industrial like Rangeman. This was a vacation cabin. Probably used at the most, twice a year. The inside walls and cabinets were wood, the floors were tile, the counters yellow Formica. Vintage 1970's. The refrigerator and appliances were new. Everything else was outdated, but clean and well kept. There was a small table with four nondescript chairs. Plain and useful.

I gave Hal a hug. It was like hugging a bear. He walked with us into the living room. It was situated directly behind the kitchen. It was very open and spacious, with a high ceiling and a big picturesque window overlooking a valley of trees below. Two large couches and a small wooden coffee table were placed in the center of the room facing the flat screen T.V. It was on the wall above a brick and rock fireplace that had looked well used. Next to the large window, was a long wooden dining table with eight chairs. It was set for eight. A bright white linen table cloth draped over the wood table. Plates and bowls were black and in contrast to the rest of the room. I could tell that Tank felt right at home. He walked in and dropped his gun belt on the couch, as if he had been here a million times.

Lester walked in. "Stephanie, nice to see you!" He said, coming over and giving me a hug. "I honestly thought we would never see you again. You up and left. Didn't even say goodbye." He put his hand over his heart. "I was crushed." He smooshed me against him and kissed the top of my head. "Things have been boring without you around. No one has knocked any of us over, blown up anything, or gotten shot since you left. It's been lonely."

Lester was about the same size as Hal. Just a lot more ghetto. He was clearly a jersey boy with dark hair and smokey brown eyes. He looked like he lived in the gym and picked up pianos for the fun. Lester and Hal. Go figure. They missed me. I rarely ever heard them speak. I had no idea they were this interesting.

They walked out the back door. "Don't you dare leave this time without a goodbye." Lester said, closing the door. Tank walked out behind them. "Ranger's upstairs in the office, Stephanie. He asked me to send you up."

I knew he was around somewhere. It was like electricity in the air. Energy you couldn't put your finger on when he was around. He still made me very nervous. Especially in a cabin in the woods, alone. Upstairs seemed sort of scary right now, so instead I went to the kitchen. Hal had everything simmering. I checked the fridge to find a big salad. I was hungry, and it looked inviting, especially if there were some croutons, and some ranch dressing. I checked for any dessert, nothing. I checked the freezer too. Damn. No dessert. I checked the fridge again, just in case I missed it. Sandwich meats, tomatoes, carrots, assorted condiments, lots of vegetables, some water. Blah. Water. There were five kinds of beers. It looked to me like no one here could decide on a common house beer. Budweiser, Coors, Dos Equis, Newcastle, and Sam Adams.

I grabbed a beer and a cherry tomato. I felt the air change in the room around me, and my heart started pounding hard in my chest. I knew Ranger was close. He came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist. His hands were extremely warm. I put my arm on top of his. I had forgotten how much I liked being close to him. He pulled me in to him, brushed the hair away, kissing my neck. Goosebumps climbed up my arms and I think I shivered. It had been close to a year since anyone had touched me like that.

He whispered into my ear, touching my skin with his lips. "I missed you, Babe." His hands moved under my thin cotton shirt, his fingers caressing my breast. My breath caught in my throat, and I think I moaned! I turned around to face him. His eyes were dark liquid oil. I kissed him. He cupped my face and the kiss became more demanding. He took control of it and pushed me up against the refrigerator. I grabbed for his shirt in an attempt to rip it off his body, and he pulled away from me, making me let go. He held my hands so I couldn't grab him again. His eyes had turned solid black, and he was definitely trying hard to hold back. I bit my lip in anticipation.

"I want you to see something." He said.

Well. Ya. I had a few things I wanted him to see also.

He pushed me out of the kitchen. It seemed the wrong moment to give me a tour of the house. I was starving, I was in a state, and he had touched me in all the right spots. He led me upstairs, but to my dismay he wasn't trying to pull off my clothes on the way up. I had a feeling he was not going to take advantage of me. Damn!

Upstairs was still as rustic as the rest of the cabin. The stairway led up to the center of a large room. The plate-glass window down stairs was a twin to the window here. To the right was a large room and a bathroom. To the left were two smaller rooms. One was an office. Ranger led me in. An older wooden desk sat close to the wall. Three computer screens were across it, with a keyboard. On the wall, was a flat screen TV that had four screens displayed. They looked like surveillance camera images, like the ones they had at Rangeman.

He pointed to the T.V. "All four of the images are from different businesses that keep having problems with break-ins. Although they are being monitored in Jersey, I like to watch them from here". He pointed to the three computer screens on his desk. "Just like at Rangeman, I can scan, do searches and put things together from up here. I walked out of the office and looked out the plate-glass window at a valley below. There were some trails and small cabins in the distance. A beautiful view of pine trees and the rest of the forest below. I saw far below what looked like Tank, Hal and Lester jogging down one of the trails. I wondered if that was what they did for fun. I walked back into the office. I had finally gotten control of my blood pressure from Rangers attack in the kitchen. I understood the need for working, but it seemed kind of wrong to stop right in the middle of whatever that was. What was that anyway? I asked myself. I had thrown myself at him. Agh. I was such a slut. Worse, he stopped me. I stood next to him as he typed in some codes. What came up was a surprise.

Across the screen in red was the title: "Bombshell Bounty Hunter." My mouth dropped open.

Below it was an Okay picture of me, then thumbnails of videos.

"Oh, Crap!" My voice seemed far away. I almost lost my footing. My heart was beating fast. I could feel my blood pressure rise again.

"There are about 25 videos that were uploaded." Ranger said. "All from various cameras, and all done without your knowledge from the way they were filmed. Amateur movie makers who saw you, and took the opportunity to film you as you were doing your take downs." He pointed to one thumbnail closest to the bottom. "This one, this is the one that got you in trouble."

I didn't know what he meant. But I took a deep breath and watched the video.

It was Eddie's video that he shot as I was trying to get out of the devil car at the cop shop. It showed some very good footage of Paul Banton. It also shows him biting me, then doing my thing, and kicking the console and deploying the airbag. Then the film goes blank. Probably because Joe walked up. He would have killed Eddie for taping it. I thought about Joe for a second. It still hurt. At that moment when that film was made, Joe and I were still good. He was bringing Pino's over. We were a couple. I took a deep breath.

Ranger pulled me from my thoughts of self-pity. "Paul Banton has a notorious past. His real name is Frederick "The Weasel" Conamelli. He was in a witness protection program until about two years ago, when he decided he was sick of hiding, and he made a life for himself. He had some inside information about the ponies at the track, and all the Mafia dealings around it. The boys didn't exactly want him talking, but they couldn't find him. Either could the FBI. It was a big problem. Both interested parties had lost track. When this video came out, He was whisked away by federal agents. They were happy they had picked him back up again; But Fred didn't want to be caged. He took off again; unfortunately for Frederick everyone knew where he was. They found him about eight months ago in a cargo trailer. Apparently, you are now linked to him.

"What?!" I sat down. Paying slightly more attention than I had been before.

Ranger must have seen the look of scared shitless on my face. We both knew the last thing you ever want to do is piss off the fricken Mob.

"I don't know why or how." He said. "It started with the video. Paul Banter started the ball rolling. He was pissed about being found. So he put a hit out on you. He did it immediately. Apparently the Weasel has a bad temper. I am lost as to why the hit is still out there. Contracts are severed once someone dies. It's obvious as to why, no one gets paid. Apparently there is something we are missing. Maybe the Mafia wants you too."

Ranger leaned back in his chair. I slumped in mine. "The only thing we can figure, is that they may think you have the information that Paul had." Ranger said. "Not a lot of people get an open season contract. You must be special."

I needed cake. Not just a piece of cake, but an entire cake. A big happy birthday balloon cake with flowers and smiling sunshine, cake.

Ranger was silent. "Your thinking about cake, aren't you?" He pulled me onto his lap and held onto me. Babe. We have no cake here, but I know a few really good tricks that would make you feel just as good as cake does."

Was that possible? Not a lot of things are better than cake. Although I really didn't want to know the answer, I went ahead and asked the next obvious question. "What is an open season contract?"

Ranger took a deep breath."It means just that. "Open Season." The contract goes to whomever kills you first. It doesn't matter who does it, they just want you gone. It is not used a lot because it causes problems, and it is easy to track who threw it down. Fredrick must not have cared. A lot of amateurs will pick it up at a chance to not only get some cash, but bagging 'The Bombshell Bounty Hunter' comes with some respect attached to it. It is a prize. It all has to do with the website. You are a celebrity."

I got up and walked across the room to the window. Looking down at the ground below me, felt like I was falling. Ranger handed me a bunch of 8 x 10 pictures. All were grainy. He pointed to one of them.

"The car that was in front of you that day in New Jersey. The one that flipped over. They were amateur hitters. They were a Ma and Pa outfit. They had the shooter in the backseat. Why they needed a third man is a mystery we will probably never solve. You had two sets of eyes on you that day. A sniper on the roof of the meat market and the little old woman and man whose car flipped over. I think the sniper saw the guy in front of you, and knew what they were about to do, so instead of letting them do the deed, he shot the guy."

I had a Picture in front of me of a car flipped over; there was a body bag next to the car. The next picture was mug shots of the two in the car. I recognized them. They were the ones I asked about the shooting and asked if they were OK. I couldn't believe they were involved in trying to kill me. They seemed like such a nice couple. The next picture was a mug shot of Frederick the Weasel. It was taken about the same time as my apprehension picture was. The next was of a mug shot and a death picture of the shooter in the back seat of the car. His name was Leo Farnsworth. I had only seen him dead, but it looked like the same guy. The last one was of Tony "the Tool". At least that was the label on the picture. His real name was Anthony Barrella. The man Connie had talked about.

"Farnsworth was shot through the forehead, as he discharged his weapon. Farnsworth's shot went wild and killed your window instead of you. The lone sniper, we think was Barrella. Better known as "The Tool", tried to slow you down and shot your wheel off your car, then shot the old man in the passenger seat of the car in the arm."

My mouth was dry, I couldn't swallow. What was it that they thought I had? Was I really so terrible to Paul Banter that he put out a hit on me? That seemed a little over the top. It wasn't my fault about the camera on Fred or Paul or whatever his name was. He didn't tell me who he was, and he didn't give me anything ! I had nothing. Why would there be a hit to be out on me?

I sat down in the chair next to him. Not sure what I should do. I pulled my legs up to my chest, and bit my lip.

"It gets worse." he said. Turning his chair towards me. We found out who put up the website. You are not going to be very happy about it."

I stared at him. The wheels of my brain were picking up speed. Who would benefit from me getting web time?

"Vinnie". I said. Not believing it, but saying it anyway.

"Actually," Ranger said. "Vinnie and Joyce set it up. She started it as a joke. Then, when it went viral she told Vinnie about it. They have been collecting a dollar a download ever since."

My face started to burn. Joyce. Not only Joyce, but Vinnie! My rat faced, turd, dog scum cousin. Vinnie needed a way out of the hole he was in. He used the money he got from me to come out to Scottsdale, and see Joyce and to start a new business. I followed along. Feeling sad and forlorn and desperate. He probably thought he could do a Scottsdale edition. I had wondered how he had gotten the money together to do bigger bonds.

I could feel my blood boil. I had been NICE to him.

"The FBI found out a few days ago that the original footage might be in the Scottsdale office. They have been under a lot of pressure lately to get it, that's what I'm hearing at least. They would look pretty bad if it leaked out that the witness protection program had some flaws."

This was a lot for me to deal with. I needed a drink, I needed cake, and I needed Vinnie's head on a stick. I was going to wring his scrawny little neck. This was his fault. Not mine. Joyce and Vinnie were dead meat.

Ranger was silent as he watched me pace the floor. "Where are you at right now, Babe?" Ranger said

I was staring out the window, plotting revenge. Thinking about how Vinnie played me. How did I not see this? I have internet. How could I have missed it? It was so obvious. What about this Tool guy? Was he out in Jersey to kill me? I needed to talk to Connie. Maybe she could get me out of this contract thing. I was angry, confused and hurt. I felt like I had been gullible. That was the worst. I hugged myself. I felt sick. All this was too much. I just felt so alone. This was it. I was going to fall off this cliff that was my life. I didn't have whatever it was they thought I had. People were looking for me; just to randomly kill me because they could. They didn't even know me. It wasn't personal, it was for money, and kicks. I stared out the window at the setting sun. I was tired and I was sad. Because of Joyce, Vincent, and Eddie my life with Joe was over. It may have ended anyway, but it would have been on our own terms, not because of their sick twisted little joke website.

Ranger came up behind me and looked out the window. "Stephanie, I found out about this yesterday. I had no idea."

I looked at him reflected in the glass of the window; He was standing with his arms folded in front of him. He was watching me, as I was watching him. He looked thinner than he had been a year ago, like maybe he had just come back from another mission and he had not gotten back to himself yet.

"How long have you been back?"

He glanced at me, looking a little surprised. "How did you know?"

I shrugged. It was just a feeling.

"I got back from the second half about a week ago. I was gone for four months. It was grueling and it felt wrong. I am not sure if I will take another assignment when it comes back up."

"Why do you go at all?"

He just kept staring out the window."Because I am good at it."

I watched Tank and the others as they headed up to the cabin. Ranger took a small remote and pressed a button and the shades on the window went down. His eyes cut to mine as the window shut off the glow of the sunset.

"Stephanie, just so you know. This is the Bat Cave."