Chapter 11: The Hitman

Stephanie awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. It was very early in the morning. She stretched her arms above her head and then reached for the phone, when the realization hit her. This time yesterday, she was still in that horrible basement terrified and waiting for her chance to escape. What a difference a day makes!

"Babe, did I wake you?" Ranger asked when she mumbled into the phone.

Stephanie smiled. If she had to be woken up before the crack of dawn, hearing her fiancé's voice was the second best way. First best would be him waking her up with a kiss. "Yeah, but it's okay," she said. "Did you find her?" Her voice was raspy and her words slurred. She probably sounded like she'd been on a three-day drunk, but the truth was she'd slept so deeply she was having trouble reentering the real world. Her ordeal had really exhausted her. She always felt safe at RangeMan, and she'd been enjoying sleeping in a comfortable bed instead of on a lumpy last-century sofa.

"I found her," Ranger said. "I don't think she's the one. It looks like Joyce has an irrefutable alibi."

Steph let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. It wasn't Joyce! So, who was it? "Are you sure?" she asked.

"I've still got some facts to check, but yeah, I'm sure," he confirmed. "What are your plans for the day?"

She exhaled noisily. "I'm going to see my mother. And then I'm going to talk to Connie. She knows more about the Mob in Trenton than anyone else I know."

"I just spoke with Tank," Ranger told her. "He's flying into Newark from Atlanta this morning. He should be at RangeMan in two hours. He will be accompanying you today."

Stephanie couldn't find her voice to respond.

"Babe?"

"I'm here," she said. What was wrong with her? She'd just been reveling in the feeling of safety, and yet when Ranger arbitrarily assigned Tank to her, her hackles had gone up.

"I don't want you outside of the building without protection."

Stephanie sighed. "I know. And I understand. I don't want to be taken again. It's just that when you said that, it sounded like … an order." Now there was silence on his end of the line.

"Ranger? Are you still there?"

"I'm here," he said. "I'm used to giving orders. That's probably why it sounded like one. I know you won't take unnecessary chances, but I won't either, not with your life at stake." There was another pause and his voice was different, more hoarse, when he spoke again. "It was a bad time for you when you were taken, but it was a bad time for me, too."

Stephanie was stunned at his words. It was an apology, of sorts, for his high-handedness, and also an admission. He'd been worried about her. She knew it, of course, but now he'd said it. A lump rose in her throat and tears threatened. She had caused Ranger pain, and she didn't want to do it again.

"I'll wait for Tank," she told him, her voice softening. "Are you still in the City? When will I see you?"

"I'm still in New York, but I'll be back in time for an early dinner and a … quiet evening in," he said.

Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of a quiet evening in. "I'll be here waiting for you." She disconnected and rolled over in the big empty bed. Tank wouldn't be back for two hours. She smiled and thought, might as well get a little more sleep. She'd need to be well-rested for a quiet evening with Ranger.

...

"Thanks," Stephanie said. She looked sideways at Tank. His black RangeMan uniform fit him like a second skin. He looked at ease behind the wheel of the fleet vehicle. He had looked equally at ease with his arms folded across his chest as he sat quietly in her father's armchair. Helen Plum hadn't looked at ease, at all. Her anxiety, Stephanie knew, came partly from worry that her husband would come home to find an interloper in his chair, and partly from the sheer physical presence of the man filling the Barcalounger.

"For what?" Tank queried.

"For scaring the bejeezus out of my mother. She was so intimidated she hardly harped at me at all. You made that visit almost painless."

"I do what I can," he replied. "Where to next?"

"The bonds office." She sat back as he turned the SUV away from the Burg. "Ranger said you just got back from Atlanta. Something going on at the RangeMan office there?"

"No, it wasn't a business trip." There was just the slightest hesitation. "It was pleasure."

"Oh." Oh! Realization sunk in. He'd been visiting Grace. Ugh! Tank's new mistress was Ranger's old mistress. She did a mental eye-roll. Grace wasn't just Ranger's former lover; she really was his old lover. Way older than Ranger or Tank. Like, old enough to be their mother. She'd suspected that Grace still had feelings for Ranger, so she had been both surprised and a little relieved when she found out that the flirting between Tank and Grace in the safe house here in Trenton had morphed into something more permanent, including lots of long weekends in Savannah for the seemingly odd couple. Tank and Grace! Who could have predicted that pairing?

She thought for a moment about Grace and her obvious feelings for Ranger. Grace was like still water, and who really knew what was running under the surface? What had her captor said? "You brought this on yourself, bitch. You came between me and my man."

Ranger said it wasn't Joyce. Could it have been Grace? It didn't sound like something Grace would have said, but still… She shook her head to clear the thought. Grace wouldn't have had Mob muscle. Grace would have taken a more devious, more ladylike route to revenge. Grace would have…

"Uh, how is Grace?" she asked Tank.

"She's fine."

"Does she ever mention Ranger?"

"What are you asking me, Stephanie?"

"I'm asking if Grace ever mentions Ranger?"

Tank laughed. "You're pretty easy to read. Why don't you ask what you're really thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"You wondering if Grace was somehow involved in your kidnapping. The answer is no."

Stephanie felt her cheeks flushing. "I just asked if she ever mentions Ranger. I said nothing about her being involved."

"You were thinking it, though. You're wondering if I'm some sort of distraction, or maybe a consolation prize since she can't have Ranger."

Stephanie was appalled, because she was thinking just that. "No! I …"

"I don't know who grabbed you, Steph, or why," he said, "But it wasn't Grace." He stared at Steph until she nodded, and then he continued. "We'll find whoever took you and we'll find out why."

"I know," Stephanie said. "The FBI is working on it. I sat with the sketch artist yesterday. They'll get them."

"Fuck the FBI. We'll find them. And they'll know justice!" She was surprised at the vehemence in his voice. He pulled the SUV into an empty space in front of the bonds office. "Go talk to Connie. I'll wait here." As Steph opened her door, Tank reached out and laid his hand on her arm. "Just to keep everything up front and out in the open, I want you to know that I personally investigated Connie and her, um, family connections. I'm positive she had nothing to do with this."

Stephanie frowned. "Of course she didn't. She's one of my best friends. I trust her with her life." Stephanie slipped to the ground and then turned to look at Tank. "But, thanks, for looking out for me." She approached the bonds office and saw Connie through the plate glass window, sitting at her desk, hiding behind her monitor, and Stephanie smiled. Some things never changed. She knew exactly what Connie was doing. As she entered the office, the smell of acetone assaulted her nose.

"What's the color du jour?" Stephanie asked.

"Reddy and Willing," Connie said with a wide grin. She held up her hands to show Stephanie her shiny wet nails. Stephanie remembered her aborted pedicure the night she'd been taken. Her toenails never did get that final coat. "Glad to see you back, safe," Connie continued. "I'd like to give you a hug, but …" She waved her hands and shrugged her shoulders.

"No problem," Stephanie said. "You know what happened?"

"Yeah," Connie said. "Jake came in to pick up some skip papers and he told me everything. I'm glad he did, because when the FBI asshats came in they wouldn't tell me anything." Without jeopardizing her wet nails, she raised her middle finger and pointed it in what Steph thought must be the general direction of the FBI.

"Yeah, they came," she continued. "They wanted to know if you'd made enemies when you were doing bond enforcement. I told them to come back with a subpoena and a big flash drive and I'd download a list for them."

"That's sort of why I'm here," Stephanie said. "I think it was someone in the Mob that took me, but I can't figure out who or why."

"What makes you think it was Family?" Connie asked.

"Where'd you get your stun gun?" Stephanie asked. "Didn't you tell me once it was the brand your uncle uses?"

"Well, yeah, but so do a lot of other people. I got mine from Harry the Hammer. He came in one day when Vinnie was hassling me, and he gave me his stun gun for my protection."

"Harry?" Stephanie questioned. "Well, he's Mob, that's for darn sure. The guys that took me used a stun gun just like yours."

"I'm pretty connected," Connie said. "I haven't heard anything about you. And I'd have heard."

"I know," Stephanie agreed. "I can't think who I've upset. I think it was a woman. And I think it was someone who was upset because I took Ranger away from her. But Ranger says there is no one. I can't figure it out."

"You're sure it was Mob?" Connie asked.

"I just have that feeling. The place they kept me had their stamp on it. And the guys who took me had the look. One of them was named Morty. You don't know any Mortys, do you?"

Connie stilled. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh, what?" Stephanie asked.

"I know a Morty. He does contract work. He's out of Philly and he's mean. He hires out as muscle for anyone who'll pay his fee. I've heard he's done work for the Romanos and the Grizzolis."

"You know him?" Stephanie exclaimed.

"Trenton's a small town. If it's the same guy, he hit on me at Reggie Romano's viewing last month. Geez, was that a snooze fest. All the old Dons, like Reggie, are dying out. I've never seen so many hunched over, wizened mobsters in my life. As for Morty, was he kinda hairy, not too tall, big meaty hands?"

"Yes," Stephanie cried. "Did the FBI agents show you a sketch they made from my description? Was it Morty?"

"They didn't show me anything, Steph. Sorry."

"I bet it's the same guy," Stephanie said. "How many Mortys can there be in Trenton, that are muscle for the Mob?"

"You'd be surprised," Connie snorted.

"And he's worked for Vito Grizzoli? What would the Grizzolis have against me?"

Connie raised a hand and blew on her nails before she tested one gingerly. Satisfied that she wouldn't mar her manicure, she turned to her keyboard. As she typed she looked over at Stephanie and raised an eyebrow. "Gee, what would they have against you? I mean, you and Terry are best friends." Connie rolled her eyes.

"Terry Gilman!" Stephanie was astonished. "It can't be Terry. She doesn't like me, and I really don't like her, but the woman who had me abducted said I caused her to lose her man … and that's not true with Terry. She and Joe were over long before I came on the scene."

"Uh-huh," Connie said noncommittally, as she hit the print button and then swiveled in her chair to grab a piece of paper as it slid into the printer tray. She handed it to Stephanie. "Here—Morty Moricolo's address. I put his address and phone number in the files. I said no that night, but ... you never know. Go take a look and see if this is your guy. But be careful."

"Thanks, Connie." Stephanie grabbed the paper and left the bonds office. She saw Tank watching her intently, which half-irritated her and half-comforted her.

She slid into the SUV and buckled in before she turned to Tank, brandishing the paper. "This may be one of the guys that took me. Morty Moricolo. Ever heard of him?" Tank shook his head. "Okay, well, let's go."

"Go where?" Tank asked.

Stephanie shook the paper in his face. "This is his address. Connie knows him and says he does contract work … for the Grizzolis." She didn't explain further. She didn't know if Tank knew of Terry's history with Joe, and she didn't feel like telling him. She just wanted to put eyes on the guy.

"We're going back to RangeMan," Tank said. "Ranger will be back later this afternoon, and you can discuss that with him. I'm not going on a hunt for a Mob hitman."

Stephanie was impatient to make the ID. She taunted Tank. "What's the problem? Afraid someone will take a shot at you? Afraid you'll get hurt?"

"Fuck, yeah," he muttered. "If I take you and, I know you're not carrying," he dipped his head and looked over his shades at her, "and we find the guy who kidnapped you and something goes wrong, I'm afraid I'll get more than hurt. I'll get dead. Ranger will kill me. And I'm very afraid of that." He turned the SUV toward Haywood, and Stephanie sighed, deeply.