Ranger's POV
I left my Babe at home after lunch and an afternoon of sex, followed by a late dinner. Stephanie wanted to lure Morelli into the open by commandeering his Cherokee. She had a great idea, but I worried Morelli's skills as a cop would put Stephanie in harm's way. It wasn't that I didn't believe Stephanie couldn't handle herself. I heard Morelli fought dirty. He enjoyed boxing while serving in the Navy. Morelli was also a hothead and reacted without thinking.
My drive to New York was quiet. Something about the trip made me feel unsettled, as though it was a ploy to get me out of Trenton or to a specific place. I owed it to Rangeman to investigate the possibilities before ignoring my instinct to turn around and go home to Babe. Stephanie and I discussed the trip. She expressed her concerns that it was a wasted trip but understood my reasons for continuing the mission.
I wanted to discuss my time in the military with Stephanie. She suspected I served time for our country in the Army but wasn't aware I spent the last seven years with the Army Rangers. Stephanie's ignorance would keep her safe. My contract with the black ops program ended before I relocated to Trenton to build another Rangeman branch. However, I received the occasional request to rescue another team. Whenever that happened, I took my best men with me. I trusted nobody more than Tank, Santos, Brown and Ram.
Babe and I also discussed Morelli's case. We both believed he was innocent. He didn't rise in the ranks to do something as foolish as killing someone in cold blood. Morelli was innocent, and someone went to great lengths to make him look guilty. He likely stumbled across someone involved in his case without realizing it. I wondered if Stephanie would try to prove it as she chased the fucker down. Stephanie always saw the good in others. It made her more attractive despite worrying she would trust the wrong man.
Congested traffic slowed my progress, adding another hour to the already long trip. Typically, it took two hours to drive to Manhattan from Trenton at this time of night. Unfortunately, if Barnhardt had been there, I wouldn't have gotten to the hotel to check in and the nightclub to apprehend my skip before 0100 when the elderly crowd would have been long gone.
Halfway to New York, I discovered the reason for the traffic on the Interstate. A fatal accident closed the highway for several miles. The highway police opened a lane, allowing traffic to continue travelling north.
I called Hector when I finally arrived at the hotel. He was inside Stephanie's apartment, sleeping on her lumpy couch. "Sleep on the floor," I suggested. Hector teased about crawling into bed with Stephanie.
"I grabbed blankets from the closet," he said. "It's comfortable now. I have a sensor on the bedroom window. I'll know if anyone tries to enter."
"Thank you," I said, ending the call.
I was relieved when I finally arrived at my destination. A valet offered to park my car, which I declined. I wanted my keys to be easily accessible. Passing them to the valet would leave me at his mercy. The valet instructed me where I needed to park. Once that nightmare was over, I walked into the hotel lobby to check in. I paid for two nights since I was required to stay in New York longer than anticipated. The man behind the counter smiled while passing me the key card to my room. I took the elevator to the eighth floor and entered my suite. After securing the door, I went to the bathroom to shower before bed. I sent Stephanie a message, letting her know I arrived safely, albeit late, and must stay an extra night. She would understand.
The following morning, I used the hotel's gym to exercise. I planned to visit Sirens to get a lay of the land and select the best place to park. It should be easy to find a place since most patrons take a taxi or Uber to enjoy the nightlife.
Several hours later...
Dressing in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, I looked in the mirror and added a blue button-down shirt, which reminded me of Stephanie. The colour matched her eyes perfectly. It was a shame Stephanie wasn't with me in New York. I missed her more than I thought possible. She would love the nightlife in Manhattan. Once my friends arrived in Trenton, I planned to bring Stephanie here for a weekend getaway.
When I entered Sirens, the nightclub across the road from my hotel, I knew Gary Barnhardt wasn't there. I was either late to the game, or he never arrived. Barnhardt swindled elderly women into handing him their cash by promising to heal them. It was ridiculous how many criminals preyed on vulnerable women. I would have better luck finding Barnhardt at a bingo hall or a seniors' centre than at a nightclub, even one catering to everyone over thirty.
A woman sitting at the bar caught my attention, but not because she appealed to me. It was more that I had recognized her, and she was out of place. My fury built as I walked closer to the bar. Jeanne Ellen was sitting at the bar wearing a tight dress that left nothing to the imagination. Dios! Would someone please tell me Jeanne Ellen Burrows didn't orchestrate the mission? My gut indicated she had something to do with the sudden sighting of Gary Barnhardt in Manhattan, New York.
Keeping an eye on Jeanne Ellen, I sat on the barstool at the end of the bar. I maintained my distance from the viper while providing the optimal view inside the club. Grinning, Jeanne Ellen approached and stood too close to my back for comfort. She never understood boundaries. There was a valid reason for not tapping her. Jeanne Ellen was too aggressive, and I knew she only wanted power and money. I was not interested.
Someone raised their mobile phone to snap a picture. Dios! I know what the person intended to do. It wouldn't shock me if the image ended up on Facebook or in Stephanie's email.
"Don't you want me?" Jeanne Ellen whispered.
"No," I replied.
"Oh, come on, lover, I know how my body affects men. Don't you want to feel my firm abs or ass?" Jeanne Ellen asked, moving to sit beside me. Her short dress slid up her legs to reveal her bare crotch. The bodice was so tight it accentuated her abs while making her breasts appear to be a cup size higher. She had the body type I used to prefer until meeting Stephanie. My Babe's stomach may not have muscle definition, but she had curves in all the right places.
"We have never been lovers, and I can't tell you enough times that it will never happen between us. Get lost. I'm trying to work," I snarled, giving her a stern glare. She stepped back, surprised by my curt tone. Jeanne Ellen seemed upset by my rejection, though I don't understand why it hurt her. I never gave Jeanne Ellen the impression that I wanted sex, and I adamantly refused to lead her on. Her attitude and aggression were off-putting as her inner ugliness shone through.
Hiring Burrows at Rangeman for distractions was the worst decision of my life. It brought her into my inner circle with the core team, and she tried to sleep her way to the top, especially when she learned I owned forty percent of the company. Jeanne Ellen interpreted that as me being ridiculously wealthy. She wasn't wrong about my wealth, but Burrows was categorically wrong about my interest in her. I never even hugged or kissed the woman. Jeanne Ellen Burrows was a pariah. It was time to cut her loose from any affiliation with Rangeman. Before leaving the Sirens, I waited for someone to pique Jeanne Ellen's interest.
Upon arriving inside my hotel room, I contacted Hector, but he never answered. It made me question what Stephanie was doing if her guard was unavailable. Hector called me a few minutes later to explain the situation. I laughed at Morelli's stupidity and praised Stephanie's cleverness. It was time to call my woman.
"Hello," Stephanie sleepily answered.
"Babe," I replied. I could feel her waking up and smiling.
"Did Batman catch the guy?" Stephanie teased.
"No. Jeanne Ellen was at the nightclub," I replied.
"Oh," Stephanie sighed. "I guess you're busy with her?"
"Babe, I'm only interested in getting busy with you. Did I awaken you?"
"Nope," Stephanie replied. "I heard Hector's phone ring. We had to finish up at the police station. Why are you calling so late?"
"Barnhardt wasn't at the nightclub. I'll come home in the morning. Do you have anything you want to tell me?" I teased. I could have congratulated her on capturing Morelli, but I wanted to hear it from her. Two car doors closed, and I heard Stephanie buckle her seatbelt.
"Okay," she huffed. "Sit back, Batman, because Wonder Woman has a story for you."
I listened as Stephanie shared the events of her day since I exited our apartment, laughing at the funny bits and learning about her relationship with Carl Costanza. She grew up with Carl and attended the same church. They lost contact when Stephanie moved to Newark after divorcing Dickie Orr. She never realized he had joined the police force while she was bored at her job.
"Should I be worried about Costanza taking you away?" I joked.
"Good, God, no. It's only you, Carlos," she replied. I felt relieved. Stephanie complained about Hector searching her apartment before allowing her to enter. I smiled, knowing my friend was protecting her. She tried to get him to leave, but he refused. Hector would stay with her as long as I was out of town.
"Babe?" I questioned, trying to get her attention.
"I'm filing the document in the morning. I didn't have time to manage it today."
I whispered, "How soon?"
"Whenever we get an available slot. I'll ask tomorrow."
Stephanie and I talked for several hours. She put her phone on speaker while she changed for bed. I hung up when Stephanie fell asleep. Chuckling, I sent Hector a message to check Stephanie's phone and charge it if needed. He replied that he took care of it when she stopped talking. I asked him to check social media sites for photos of me at Sirens. Hector promised to remove the offensive images before someone used them to track his location.
Unable to wait another minute, I called Tank, who answered on the first ring, "Yo."
"Sit rep," I demanded.
Tank chuckled and gave me the details. "Gary Barnhardt is in Trenton. He was spotted near the retirement home," Tank said. I pinched my nose as he continued the report.
"Run a fresh background on Jeanne Ellen Burrows," I ordered.
"You think she's up to shit?" Tank asked.
"I know she is," I growled. "I need to know where she's living. Burrows followed me to New Jersey. How did she know where to find me?"
Tank's fingers clacked across the keyboard as he entered the information into the search program. "She accessed the employee database," Tank replied. "We have your emergency information and location in the file. Jeanne Ellen accessed the computers and used Mateo's credentials to access the information. We need a better protocol to prevent this from happening again."
"Terminate Jeanne Ellen's employment. We have a stipulation in her contract that she would be released from all obligations if she abused her position. Stealing another man's credentials to access personnel files qualifies," I said.
"And your brother?" Tank asked.
"Tell Mateo he's on a four-week probation, revoke his access to the privileged files and take him to the mats," I replied before hanging up. I had to trust Tank to manage my brother and discipline his actions. It meant placing Michael, the man we selected as Miami's second in command, as the man in charge until Mateo's probationary period ended. It was only because we're family that I haven't fired his ass. I wondered if Jeanne Ellen got her claws in my brother's back. Mateo knows Jeanne Ellen was a gold digger.
Stephanie reluctantly accepted money for her role in capturing Eduardo Melendez. She took what she needed to recover her Miata, which the dealership would deliver by Monday, and pay her credit card balance. We discussed her shoe collection. Stephanie said most of them were on sale. She refused to pay the full price for anything. After her divorce from Dickie Orr, Stephanie had learned to manage her money. I knew she was telling the truth. How else could she have made her severance pay and savings in the last six and a half months?
After stripping, I closed my eyes while thinking about Stephanie. My thoughts wandered as I mentally relived the events of the day. Something niggled in the back of my mind. How did Jeanne Ellen know I moved to Trenton, New Jersey? Did Jeanne Ellen plant a tracker on my Mercedes?
The last question had me quickly dressed to check my car. I tucked the key card into my pocket and ran down the stairs. When I arrived at my vehicle, I checked everywhere for a tracker. Tucked behind the license plate, I found three tracking devices. I plucked them free and attached them to another black Mercedes in the lot, smiling when I noticed the British Columbia plates.
It was time to leave Manhattan. Tank confirmed the trackers were ones they issued to Jeanne Ellen Burrows. He promised to check my other vehicles before driving them to New Jersey. I should feel guilty for sending Jeanne Ellen on a wild goose chase, but she brought this on herself.
Twenty minutes later, after placing a pinhead camera in the hotel room to catch whoever entered, I was on the road. The hotel manager tried to get me to stay. Nothing he said convinced me it was a wise decision. Jeanne Ellen would know where I was and use her feminine wiles to get the man at the desk to reveal my room. I used one of my covers, but providing my description would give me away. It wasn't a risk I was willing to take.
I called Tank, who answered, "Yo," while chuckling.
"I'm returning to Trenton," I announced.
"I could see that," Tank joked.
He likely assumed I would leave NY after Jeanne Ellen breached my security. "I planted that camera in my hotel room," I replied.
"I'll personally monitor it," Tank offered before hanging up.
The drive to Trenton was relaxing. It didn't take long until I exited the highway. On a whim, I drove past the retirement home. It was 0730, much too early for what I was seeing. "You have got to be joking," I grumbled. I rubbed my eyes and pinched myself to ensure I wasn't sleeping. Nope. Not asleep. It wasn't a dream.
Stephanie was sitting on a bench outside the retirement home. On her right was a woman old enough to be Stephanie's grandmother. To her left was Gary Barnhardt, cuffed to the bench. Babe's hair was messy, and her jeans had torn during a scuffle. She never looked more beautiful to me.
While touching her neck, Stephanie glanced around and smiled when I pulled up at the curb beside the bench. "Babe?" I asked, exiting my car. I reached for the cuffs attached to my belt.
"Hey, Ranger," she replied. "Why are you here?"
"I could ask you the same question," I teased.
"Grandma never went home last night. Mom called and asked me to search for her. Hector got called away for something, and I didn't have his assistance," Stephanie rambled. Her hands were shaking as the adrenaline levels returned to normal. "I knew Grandma was playing poker with her friends, so I came here. This guy was leading Grandma from the home, and I recognized him, from your description, as your skip, Gary Barnhardt."
I glanced at Barnhardt. His nose appeared to be broken, and he was clutching his crotch. Barnhardt's face was tear-stained from crying. "The bitch needs to register that lethal knee as a weapon," Gary gasped.
"Who are you calling a bitch?" Stephanie's grandma, who I realized from the background check, was Edna Mazur. She tweaked Barnhardt's nose, making him cry out from the pain.
"Sorry. Please don't taser me again. You scrambled my brain cells enough," Gary cried.
"Proud of you, Babe," I replied, grinning at my woman.
Edna Mazur didn't miss a trick. "Well, that wasn't disappointing. I always expected something better for you," Edna told Stephanie, gently patting her knee.
I removed the cuff from the bench and pulled Barnhardt to his feet. He wisely cooperated as I shackled him into the backseat of my Mercedes. "I'll see you at home," I told Stephanie. She nodded.
"All that excitement gave me an appetite. Can we stop for donuts?" Edna asked Stephanie before following her to Morelli's Cherokee.