Chapter 9

I woke up in my bed in a tangle of limbs with Ranger. We were both naked and my cell phone was ringing. I reached over my gun and grabbed it off my nightstand.

"Ungh," I said.

"Steph," Grandma said, "I need Lula's phone number. We still need to plan the menu at the caterers and order the cake from the bakery."

I paused, waiting for my brain to wake up. "What time is it?" I finally asked.

"It's just before six," Grandma answered. "But the bakery opens in five minutes and if we don't get our order in early enough, they won't have time to special order in all the decorations I need."

I paused again, blinking my eyes. "When is your wedding?" I asked.

"Geez woman," Grandma said. "It's in three months. You're planning my wedding; you should know things like this. I need to talk to Lula. She understands how much work it is to plan a wedding. We just got the invitations sent out and the flowers ordered. We need to pick bridesmaids dresses next and I can't decide on the color."

"I'll text you her number."

"Do it as soon as you hang up," Grandma said. "I don't want you falling back asleep."

"Fine."

I sent her Lula's number and flopped backwards onto my pillow. Ranger was silently chuckling beside me. I turned to him.

"Stop laughing, it's not funny," I told him.

"Stephanie Plum," he teased, "the wedding planner."

"Oh shut up," I replied. "One day you might get married again."

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked me straight in the eyes. He reached over and pushed a curl of hair out of my face. "I might," he said.

It was a serious moment with serious implications. I didn't know how comfortable I was with that.

"You know," I said lightly, "if you weren't already dead."

"There are ways around that," he countered.

We stared at each other for a few beats. There was no amusement in his eyes; he was deadly serious.

"I have to pee," I said, getting out of bed and making my way to the bathroom.

Once I was done getting ready, I found Ranger in the kitchen pouring coffee into mugs. He put a giant scoop of sugar and a generous helping of milk into one and handed it to me. The other mug he left black for himself.

"I need to find out more about Suzanne Moutis and Richard Black," I said.

"Ask Tank to run a search at Rangeman," said Ranger. He left Tank his elite security company in his will, and it housed a lot of sophisticated equipment that could probably get a lot sensitive information. Their programs would find a way around FBI and police detection. "And say hi to Tank for me."

"What are you doing today?" I asked Ranger.

"I'll be around," he answered.

"I need a way to contact you," I said.

"I thought you'd ask," Ranger replied. He pulled a black flip-phone out of one of his cargo pockets.

"I'll leave you this burner phone so I can stay in touch with you. My contact number is in there under an alias, Marc Pardo."

I got in my Rangeman SUV and fought my way through traffic over to Rangeman. I parked on the street and entered the glass doors. The guy at the front desk buzzed me in and motioned me to the elevators.

I rode the elevator to the fifth floor and made my way across the control room. Tank's office was located right beside Ranger's old office, which was dark and had its door closed.

I knocked on Tank's door.

"Enter," his voice boomed.

I walked in and took a seat at his desk.

"Marc Pardo says hi," I told Tank.

He mumbled something under his breath and shuffled some papers aside onto a growing stack on the corner of his desk.

"Fucking paperwork," he said. "All I do in a day is paperwork."

"It's still early," I replied. "You might even get to shoot someone today."

That got a snort and a half-smile out of him.

"I need to find out everything about a cop and an FBI agent without getting detected," I said.

"Not a problem," Tank answered.

I gave him the names. Suzanne Moutis worked for the Trenton FBI, so she probably lived locally, but Richard Black was from the Newark Police force, so he would be staying somewhere temporarily while working in Trenton.

"I need to find where Richard Black is staying while he's in Trenton."

"That's easy," Tank said. "Every visiting cop stays at the Super 8 Motel on Broad. There's a donut shop, a bar, and a strip club right there."

I exited the building onto the street and hurried to my Rangeman fleet SUV. I didn't like being so exposed. In my haste, I dropped my car keys and bent down to pick them up just as a gunshot rang out. A bullet hit the car panel behind me. I dropped to the ground and rolled underneath the SUV. Two more bullets hit the concrete in front of me and one hit my shoulder bag that I had dropped. I reached into my pocket and pushed the panic alarm Tank had given me.

I stayed under the vehicle until I could see a swarm of black Rangeman boots.

"Under here," I said.

One of the Rangeman guys helped pull me out as Tank was ordering teams to spread out to find the shooter.

Tank inspected the bullet hole in the Rangeman SUV. "You've done worse," he said.

I looked at the bullet hole in my shoulder bag. "He killed my purse," I said. "This guy is going down."

I swapped out the SUV for Ranger's Porsche Cayenne. Tank informed me that all of Ranger's cars were fully equipped with bulletproof windows, enhanced body armor, run-flat tires, and a lock box under the driver's seat for a gun. They were essentially army transport vehicles in Porsche clothing.

My cell phone rang and I answered it using the vehicle's Bluetooth.

"Steph," It was Grandma. "I need you to come pick me up at the bridal salon, Lula's car won't fit all of the bridesmaids' dresses."

I rolled my eyes and did a U-turn at the light and made my way back into the 'Burg. When I arrived at the bridal salon, Grandma and three of her friends were waiting at the curb, next to a big box of dress bags.

Grandma's friend whistled. "That's a beaut of a car."

"It was a hand-me-down," I said, opening the back doors up.

"Stephanie inherited it from her boyfriend that died," Grandma explained, hopping up into the front passenger seat.

"He wasn't my boyfriend," I said, as I shoved the big box of dresses into the back.

"If he left you a Porsche," one of Grandma's friends said, "you two were more than just friends."

Another one of Grandma's friends piped up. "When my Gregor passed away, all he left me was his debts and a goldfish."

When everyone was inside and buckled up, I pulled away from the curb and headed in the direction of my parent's house. Grandma's friends were a chatty bunch.

"I've never ridden before in a Porsche," said one of Grandma's friend. "Could you drive past Olga Snively's house so I can gloat?"

"Could you drive over to my son's house? He's always loved Porsches," said another.

"What are these floor bolts for in the back seat? Is it for something kinky?"

"Have you ever had sex in a Porsche before?"

"Can I drive? I'm not legally blind yet."

I drove around the 'Burg dropping off Grandma's friends at their houses. The last stop was my parent's house to drop off Grandma.

"Did you want to come in for lunch?" Grandma said. "Lula and I were going to work on the table centerpieces afterwards."

I'd rather stick a fork in my eye. "No thanks," I said. "I'm busy."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Grandma said. "We need to be at the caterer's at lunchtime."

I pulled away from the curb and after a few blocks, Tank called me with Suzanne Moutis' address. The rest of the search results could be picked up from Rangeman. The address was an apartment building very close to Giovinnchi's market, and I was hungry.

I did a U-turn at the next light and headed in that direction. I figured after I got lunch, I could stake out the neighborhood and covertly watch for Suzanne, see if she meets up with any Hispanic drug dealers.

Giovinnchi's was an Italian deli that served the population of the 'Burg. It specialized in deli meat and cheeses, carried a wide selection of coffee cakes, and made a mean sandwich.

I parked the Cayenne at the curb and walked in. It was busy with Sunday shoppers, just getting off of church and picking up their groceries for the week. I made my way through the crowd and stood in the sandwich line.

Gina Giovinnchi was working behind the deli case. I had gone to school with her. She had since gotten married and changed her last name, but I couldn't remember what it was.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, I got to the front of the line and was just to give Gina my order when a voice spoke from behind me.

"YOU!" It was Morelli's Grandma Bella.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I turned around and saw Grandma Bella in her Sunday best, wearing a black overcoat and a scarf over her hair. Her face was all screwed up in rage like a witch and her finger was pointing at me.

People in the market scattered as she advanced on me. Gina ducked behind the deli case. I stood my ground.

"You evil woman," she spat out. "You broke my Joey's nose!"

Technically Joe's nose had been broken more than a few times in bar fights during his younger, wilder years, but I don't think Grandma Bella counts those.

"I'm going to give you the finger!" She continued. "You will never get married! You will never have children! You will live in exile and die in hell!"

She put her finger to her nose, did a weird little dance and spat at my feet. She then picked up her groceries off the floor and left.

I turned back to the deli case. "Can I have a turkey bacon club?" I asked Gina.

"No way," she said. "Bella just gave you the finger. I can't serve you or I'll get it too."

I didn't understand the reasoning, but I wasn't getting my sandwich. I left Giovinnchi's and went across the street to a café for lunch.

When I walked in, the smell of roasting coffee filled my nostrils. I looked around and saw Suzanne Moutis sitting at one of the tables. She waved me over. So much for secretly spying on her.

"Hi," she said brightly, "Stephanie right?"

"Yup," I answered.

A waiter came over and took our order. I got a chicken salad sandwich on white bread and a double chocolate mocha with extra whipping cream. Suzanne got a vegetarian wrap with a skim soy milk latte.

"How's it going?" She asked me.

"Same as always," I said. "How are you?"

"Frustrated," she said. "I'm not making any headway on this cocaine case. The suspects on my list are disappearing as soon as I find them."

Our drinks and meal came. I bit into my sandwich as Suzanne continued talking.

"The first guy on my list was from Hamilton Township," she said. "I tracked him down and my partner and I staked out his apartment. He came home and minutes later, his whole building was on fire. He got trapped inside and was declared dead when the firemen found him."

Suzanne took a sip of her latte. "The next guy was killed in a car accident. We were tailing him on Broad Street and this van comes out of nowhere and T-boned him in the driver's side."

She took a bite out of her veggie wrap. "It was rush hour and pandemonium. There were four more collisions in the intersection."

"Did you catch the driver of the van?" I asked.

"He got away," she said. "Witnesses said he was wearing a ski mask. The van was stolen, so we don't have any leads."

"The third guy lived on Stark Street," she continued. "I pulled up to see him and his friends playing basketball and next thing I know, there's a spray of gunfire and he's face-down on the sidewalk with half a dozen bullets to his chest."

"At least you found some of your suspects," I said. "Each person on my list could be one of dozens with the same name."

Suzanne sighed and ran her hand through her short dirty blond hair. "I joined the FBI to make a difference. To put my Princeton education to work. I've been here for ten years only to find that it's a man's world. I've been discriminated against just because I'm a woman, watching from the sidelines, but that's going to change."

I zoned out for a bit. My sandwich tasted a little off. Maybe the mayo in the chicken salad was a bit sour. The last time I had food that tasted funny, I was bodyguarding Ranger and ate poisoned food meant for him. I wondered if Suzanne knew I was onto her. I put down my sandwich and had a sip of my mocha.

"…I'm going to show them all." Suzanne was still talking. "Being on Karen's task force, I'm going to show them what I'm capable of. They won't ignore me anymore."

She put her hand on my arm, "You understand," she said. "You're a woman, just like me."

"Uh, yeah," I agreed. All of a sudden I didn't feel very safe with Suzanne.

"Look at the time," I said, knocking back the rest of my mocha. "I need to get going."

We paid for our lunch and exited the café. I found Suzanne walking me to my vehicle. My stomach was rumbling and doing flip-flops. I think I needed to find a bathroom quick.

"Maybe sometime we could grab dinner together?" She asked.

I was distracted, scanning the rooftops looking for my shooter. "Yeah, sure."

"I think you and I really have a connection," she said. "We're both in the same circumstances."

There was nobody on the rooftops, hanging out the windows, or on their balconies holstering a sniper rifle. "Yeah, definitely," I said, digging in my purse for my keys.

"I'll call you and make plans," Suzanne said. She leaned in and touched my arm.

That got my attention and I looked up. She was standing way too close. Before I knew it, she put her hand behind my head and planted a soft kiss on my lips.

I was rooted to the spot, unable to move out of shock.

"Bye Stephanie," Suzanne said, as she walked down the street back to her apartment.

What the hell just happened? Somehow a covert stakeout turned into a date with kissing.

My stomach did another rumble. I got my keys out of my purse and unlocked the Cayenne. I ran all of the yellow lights and made it back to my apartment just in time.

It turned out that it wasn't food poisoning, and after a few hours at home, I was fine.

I sighed. It was hard to say whether Suzanne was the mole in the cocaine drug ring. She definitely had enough of the system, but was it enough to sell out?

My next step was to follow Richard Black, the cop from Newark. I got into the Cayenne and drove over to the Super 8 Motel on Broad. The donut shop was closed. The bar and strip club were still open. It was around dinnertime, so I entered the bar.

I headed straight to the bathrooms, while scanning the room.

I found Richard in one of the back booths, talking animatedly with two Hispanic guys who looked to be in their late 30s. Bingo.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. I pretended to drink it while trying to keep my head down so that Richard wouldn't see me. I strained to hear their conversation, but the room noise was too loud.

After a few minutes, the two Hispanic guys got up and left.

Shortly thereafter, Richard got up. He whispered in my ear as he walked past me.

"Meet me next door."

Next door was a strip club. I waited a few minutes, paid my tab, and left the bar. So much for going unnoticed.

I walked into the strip club. The lights were dark and there were neon lights lighting up the stage. A girl was onstage doing her thing, as waitresses hurried between tables. It was surprising busy for a Sunday night, but it was a special event, amateur's night.

Richard was waiting for me at a table in a back corner. He saw me come in and waved me over.

"I'm surprised," he said, eyeing me up. "I didn't think you had the guts to come."

I sat down and a waitress in a tiny bikini came over to take our drink order, waving her boobs a little too close to my face for my liking.

I once went to a strip bar with Ranger to follow a lead on a case. With him, I felt comfortable. With Richard, I felt seedy.

"Why are you following me?" He asked.

"I just wanted to get to know you," I said.

A smile spread across his face. He undid two more buttons on the front of his shirt, exposing his hairy chest all the way down to the top of his gut. "Of course you do, all the ladies want a taste of Rich."

I swallowed back my disgust. "Do you come here often?"

"Pretty much daily," he said. "I try to unwind after a long day after being in the FBI cocaine club with Karen O'Reilly. Nothing loosens me up like having big tits slapped in my face and a lap dance."

Our drinks appeared, and I took a sip.

"So, what do you like doing?" I asked Richard.

"Pretty much everything," he said. "Sixty-nine, anal, doggie, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, threesomes, foursomes. But if you're into kink, we could do that too. I could tie you up and slap you around a bit."

I wasn't getting any information out of this guy and every second word was verbal diarrhea.

"I mean, what do you do when you're not working?" I tried.

"Do you want a lap dance?" Richard asked. "I'll pay as long as you let her feel you up and I can watch."

"No thanks," I said.

"God you're cranky," Richard said. "Are you on the rag or something?"

My eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

He leaned into me and said slowly as if I was stupid, "Are. You. Bleeding. From. Your. Happy. Hole?"

I thought I've had my share of assholes between working as a lingerie buyer and a bounty hunter, but this guy took the cake.

"I'm out of here," I said as I stood up.

"Probably for the best," Richard retorted, leaning back in his seat. "'Cause once you go Black, you can't go back."

I left the strip bar and went home to take a shower. After a good half hour of scalding hot water, I felt clean again. I put on my flannel pajamas, grabbed a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream out of the freezer, and sat down in front of the TV.

A beep came from my burner phone. It was a text from Ranger. I'm coming in, don't shoot.

A few seconds later, Ranger walked through my front door.

After throwing all the locks behind him, he took off his jacket and boots and left them by the front door. He emptied his pockets and placed everything on my kitchen counter along with his gun. He came into the living room where I was sitting and sat down on the couch next to me.

Without saying anything, he looked in my eyes and sighed. He grabbed the ice cream out of my hand and ate a spoonful before giving it back. I've never seen Ranger eat ice cream before.

"Rough day?" I asked.

"Do you know how hard it is to follow you, all day?" He said.

"You were following me?" I said.

"I wanted to get a bead on your shooter," he explained. "Tank called me after your incident at Rangeman, so I've been tracking you ever since. I followed you all over the 'Burg with a bunch of old ladies, saw you get kissed by a girl, and then go into a strip club. I got a reputation in the Army Rangers for being one of the best trackers, but you've been the hardest, Babe."

"It's good to know that I'm good at something," I said. "Because I'm horrible at following people without them noticing me."

"It's hard not to notice you," Ranger said, pushing a curl of hair behind my ear. "You're unforgettable."

In the morning, I went to my closet to get dressed. Hanging alongside my shirts and dresses were men's clothing. I looked in my dresser and found boxer briefs, socks, and men's pants and jeans. I think the most surprising thing of all is that they weren't all black.

"Are you moving in?" I called out to Ranger, who was in the kitchen.

He walked into my bedroom, wearing only a pair of black boxers. "Is that a problem?"

"Nope," I said, putting on a pair of jeans and a girlie T-shirt. "You do realize your clothes are in color, right?"

He half-smiled. "I'm in disguise."

"I'm looking forward to seeing it."