"Not that I'm upset about seeing you, but why are you here?" I asked. I was glad the cafe was practically empty except for Ranger, Mateo and me. The waitress kept passing furtive looks our way.
"I had paperwork to sign," he replied, sitting across the table from me to keep an eye on everything. It was easier to see the resemblance between them. I wondered if Connie noticed Ranger's hair was slightly longer than Mateo's hair. Both pulled them into a low ponytail using a leather tie. "While searching the area for a building to house Rangeman, I ran into my old gang friend, Hector."
"How is he?" I asked. Hector was three years younger than us. He hung around the gang Ranger had joined in Newark. Hector's brother was the gang leader. Their parents and younger sister died in a drive-by shooting.
"Wanting to leave that life behind," Ranger replied. I knew he would do everything possible to get Hector out of the gang. "He's helping me find a suitable space."
The waitress approached the table. "Would you like another coffee?" she asked Mateo.
"Yes," he said. She caught Ranger's eye. He nodded and pointed to me.
"I'll have one, too, please," I politely said. "I would like a Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich with fries and a grilled chicken salad with the Italian dressing on the side. Oh, and a loaded 609 burger."
"Are you sure you can eat all that?" the waitress asked with a raised brow.
I laughed. "Of course not. I'm ordering for the table," I replied, resisting the urge to say, "duh."
"I'll be right back," she promised. She returned with a fresh pot of coffee.
After she poured my cup, I asked, "Can I add another Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich with fries?" Ranger raised a brow. I winked and shrugged. "Oh. We need water, please."
Fifteen minutes after I placed our orders, the waitress returned with our meals. "Who gets the grilled chicken salad?" she asked. I pointed to Ranger.
"He gets the 609 burger," I said. She placed the other plates on my side of the table. "Thank you."
My stomach grumbled as I picked up my sandwich. I took a massive bite while Ranger watched in amusement. When he glanced over my shoulder, I knew Al had arrived. "I hoped that second order was for me," Al said, sitting beside me.
"How did your meeting go?" I asked.
"About how I expected," Al replied. "She can't afford much, and I refused to accept sexual favours as payment for my services."
I choked on my sandwich and had to wash down the food with water. "Al, I'm eating," I whined.
"Why are you eating? Aren't you supposed to attend dinner with Helen and Edna?" Al asked before taking a bite of his sandwich. A bit of the cheese sauce landed on his shirt. I snorted. He was really into his role-play. "Shit! I can't wait to lose this weight. My stomach is in the way." Whenever I gained weight, it went straight to my thighs and ass. Al's weight went to his face and gut.
I snickered when Ranger sniffed the dressing and set it aside. He caught my eye and raised a brow. "I'm hungry," I replied, answering Al's question. "I'll eat a little of everything at Helen's house and make a quick exit."
"Then why go?" Mateo asked, setting his half-eaten burger on his plate.
"We may not get along or see eye to eye, but she did give birth to me, and I want to see Grandma," I replied. "I could ask for you to accompany me."
"But you don't want to blow your cover," Mateo reasoned. I gave him the thumbs up as I shoved fries into my mouth. "Aren't you worried about someone here talking?"
"Nope," I replied. "Our waitress isn't native to Trenton. She is married to the owner. They relocated from Newark when I started high school. I know they don't care for the Burg rumours or say anything to the Burg residents who come here."
"You picked the perfect time to eat here," the waitress said.
"I'm sorry that I don't remember your name," I said apologetically.
She smiled and winked at me. "I'm Mitzie Harlow," she replied. "Some of the teen boys call me ditzy, so I stopped wearing a name tag. Most of the regulars know me by Harlow. I avoid listening to private conversations."
"That's good to know. Thank you for giving us time to talk," I said.
"Would you like dessert?" Mitzie asked.
"No, thank you," I replied when I saw Ranger's raised brow. "May I have the bill?"
"Sure," Mitzie answered.
Ranger removed two hundred dollars from his wallet, tucking it into the folder with the bill. "No change," he said.
"Thank you, sir," Mitzie gushed.
"Babe, you're coming with me. You need a new weapon," Ranger ordered.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Sunny's Gun Shop," he replied. "The owner agreed to provide the Rangeman staff with guns, registrations and permits."
"I was planning to go there anyway. Oh, I need to drive my car," I said when we exited the cafe. He placed a hand on my back and guided me to the Nova. Ranger was careful outside; he gently squeezed my hand as I climbed into the vehicle. "I'll follow your car."
He climbed into the black Mercedes I had seen at the bonds office earlier that day. I knew he was near me when I felt my neck tingling. Ranger smirked when he caught my smile in his rearview mirror. I couldn't actually see his smirk, but I knew it was there.
We drove to Sunny's without incident. He fought back a smile when my car backfired before it turned off. "Where's the muffler?" Ranger asked.
"Somewhere on Stark Street," I confessed.
"Hi, Sunny," Ranger greeted the owner when we stepped inside.
Sunny was in her forties. She had bleached her hair to canary yellow, which resembled cotton candy. I thought my hair got frizzy, but Sunny's was…more. "Hello, Ranger. Are you here to purchase a weapon?" Sunny asked, her voice sounded as though she smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. Sunny wore rhinestone earrings, skintight jeans, and acrylic nails with palm trees painted on them. I felt slightly jealous of her painted nails. She would be prettier if her face weren't heavily tanned and wrinkled like a cigar.
"Stephanie is," he quickly replied, returning my attention to the conversation.
"What's your price point?" Sunny asked.
"Cheap," I answered.
"She'll get the Smith & Wesson .38 revolver," Ranger said. It was roughly the size of my Glock. Sunny handed me the documents to register the revolver in my name and apply for a permit to carry it. The whole process took thirty minutes. I had one more thing to do before leaving with my gun. Sunny needed me to prove I understood gun safety, so she pointed to the side, where she had a gun range.
"I'll be watching the feed on the camera," Sunny warned.
Ranger placed a possessive hand on my lower back. I felt the heat radiating through my clothes, and I fought the urge to moan. God knows how much I missed my husband's touch. He chuckled, removing his hand to open the door to the range for me to enter before him. I knew he only wanted a reason to stare at my ass.
"How are we playing this?" I asked, loading the S & W.
"Any way you want, Babe," Ranger replied, grabbing the earmuffs from the hook. "I'm Henry Higgins to your Eliza Doolittle." He placed them over my ears before correcting my stance since I was pretending to be new at shooting a gun.
The handle felt foreign in my hand and required a tighter grip. It wasn't anything like my favourite Glock. I exhaled and fired, emptying the gun into the centre of the paper target. "Crap," I mumbled, making Ranger laugh. The bullets might have hit the centre of the target, but they were still too spread out for my liking. Ranger set up the next target. I kept practicing with the weapon until every bullet hit the centre within a one-inch radius.
"Why did Mateo deliver the intel instead of you?" I questioned while trying to figure out how to dismantle the .38 to clean. "Is he inserting himself into my case?"
"Silvio sent it to Mateo since he was in the area. He didn't know I was on my way to deliver the intel personally," Ranger replied, removing the gun from my hand and expertly taking it apart without losing the firing pin. "Mateo won't get involved unless you invite him into the mission."
Smiling, I said, "I think he wanted to eat high-fat food when you couldn't intervene."
"That too," Ranger replied, laughing.
"What was wrong with the salad dressing?" I asked.
"It wasn't homemade." I rolled my eyes. Ranger's body was a temple. He preferred freshly made salad dressing, specifically the balsamic vinaigrette ones. They didn't taste horrible, but I preferred the ones you can buy off the grocery store shelves.
"I could have picked the blue cheese or ranch dressing," I teased. Ranger gave me a slight shiver. "Seriously, I thought the Italian dressing would be the healthier option." He raised a brow, and I had to laugh. "Right. It was no better than the rest," I added.
It took a few minutes to clean the gun and toss the casings into the trash. "I have to go," Ranger said, checking the message on his pager. "Santos spotted my skip." Ranger kissed my forehead when we exited the range. Thankfully, Sunny wasn't paying attention. She was busy helping another client.
"Don't get shot," I teased.
"Be careful," Ranger warned. "Call me if you need help." Ranger knew I could handle most things by myself. I might need his help with Lonnie Dodd. That man was only a few inches taller than me, and I could easily take him down. But something about him screamed unhinged. Chasing Lonnie could wait until tomorrow.
Ranger closed my door and tapped the hood. I waited until he pulled away from the curb to unload my gun. Who knows what antics Grandma would do during dinner? I felt having a loaded gun in my purse was inviting trouble.
Nothing was more dangerous than a man who had nothing left to lose. Al and I encountered enough of that type during our deployments. I know Carlos and his Rangers team had as well. His team encountered them more so than mine. Carlos had been captured and tortured by such men. Those were dark days, and it tested our marriage vows. For the sake of our children, Carlos sought psychiatric help. Our marriage was stronger than ever. It helped when he decided to leave the special ops behind, and I resigned from the military.
Using the money we saved during our servitude, opening Rangeman was one of our better ideas. We missed the excitement of working with the military and opted to work as mercenaries, where we got to pick and choose which operative aligned with our moral code. On rare occasions, Ranger was offered an exorbitant fee for rescuing a Rangers team. He always took Tank, Lester, Bobby, and Ram on those missions, except when he needed ex-SEALs, then he would add Hal and Cal to his team. My husband was the best of the best. He worked hard to become the top Ranger, which was how he earned his nickname. To me, he was and will always be my Batman.
I sighed when my car sputtered and banged until the engine stopped. The nosy neighbours peeked from behind their curtains to see who was visiting Helen and Edna Mazur. With a sheepish smile, I exited my car and waved. The nosy women quickly disappeared from view. "Nosy old bats," I mumbled.
Someone knocked on the door when I helped Grandma get the food from the kitchen. Through the window, I could see the man standing on the porch. The man was Bernie Kuntz, with whom I had gone to school since he was five. We used to eat lunch together for the first through third grades. His favourite sandwich was peanut butter and jelly on Wonder Bread. Bernie's mom used to cut the sandwich into triangles, but I preferred my sandwiches whole.
"Why is he here?" I demanded. I hadn't seen Bernie since I left Trenton after grade nine. Bernie was medium height and medium build and was still carrying some of his baby fat. He was wearing clothes typically seen on men around Dad's age. The shiny tassel loafers, dress slacks, and sports coat made it obvious he was trying to dress to impress. Nothing would ever beat seeing Carlos wearing an Armani suit.
"Bernie graduated college and sells appliances in his father's store. He makes good money and drives a Bonneville," Helen said, making it sound like Bernie Kuntz was a great catch. I hoped Carlos wouldn't be upset. Since I was still wearing the earbud, I heard Al's laughter over the unit.
Bernie had not changed much since sixth grade. He still couldn't figure out how to make the metal pull on his zipper go flat. It was sticking out to create a tent with his fly. I didn't like how it drew my attention. Perhaps that was the goal.
"Imagine that. He drives a Bonneville," Grandma said. She winked when I caught her eye. Grandma wasn't impressed, and neither was I. My husband drove a Mercedes or Porsche.
Turning to me, Bernie asked, "So, what are you doing now?" He seemed interested to hear my answer. What was he expecting?
I don't want to have this conversation. It was none of his business, but I had to maintain my cover. Fiddling with my fork, I replied, "I sort of work for an insurance company." Al snorted in my ear.
"Are you a claims adjuster?" he asked expectantly.
"Um, it's more like collections," I replied, maintaining the cryptic answers.
Grandma got tired of me skirting the truth and excitedly added, "She's a bounty hunter. She tracks down criminals just like Dog the Bounty Hunter on television. Steph even has a gun and everything." How on earth did Grandma know about my gun? I bet someone saw me enter Sunny's Gun Shop and tattled to my grandma.
She grabbed my bag from the sideboard and promptly unloaded it. I was shocked as I stared at the travel pack of tampons when Grandma proudly announced, "Here is her gun. Isn't it beautiful?"
The .38 Special was easy to use and carry, as Carlos told me at Sunny's Gun Shop. It was a more reasonable price than a semiautomatic. But four hundred bucks was still a lot of money when I didn't have much in my Trenton account.
"My God! Put it away!" Mom shouted. "Stephanie, take the gun from her before she kills someone."
"Mom, it's empty," I replied. Grandma opened the cylinder, which was clearly empty of rounds. "It doesn't have any bullets."
Grandma pretended to shoot the gun, saying, "Kapow, kapow, kapow," while keeping her finger on the trigger without pulling it.
"Guns don't belong at the table. Dinner's getting cold, and I'll have to reheat the gravy," Mom snapped.
"How are you supposed to catch those killers without bullets in your gun?" Grandma asked with her eyes narrowed.
Bernie gulped and asked, "Killers?"
"She's after Joe Morelli," Grandma replied. "He's a killer and a bail jumper. Morelli killed Ziggy Kulesza by shooting him in the head."
I was watching Grandma closely to ensure she didn't load my gun. "I knew Ziggy Kulesza," Bernie said. I stopped paying attention to Grandma to turn and look at him. Could Bernie give me the information Al and I were missing from the mission's intel? "I sold him a big-screen TV a year ago."
"How do you know?"
"Big-screen TVs are too expensive, and we don't sell many. I know every person who bought one in the past year," Bernie proudly replied as if it would impress me, which it didn't.
However, his reply piqued my interest. "This is going to be good," Al said in my ear. I almost told him to shut up, but that wouldn't align with the current conversation at the dinner table.
"Has he purchased anything from you recently?" I sweetly asked, making Al snort in my ear again. I should have left the earbud and mic at home. But I needed Al to keep track of everything I needed to follow up on.
"Nope. I have seen him across the street at Sal's Butcher Shop a few times. Ziggy seemed like an okay, regular sort of person," Bernie said.
I noticed Grandma had the ammunition box on the table beside the box of tampons. "Grandma, please tell me you didn't load the gun," I pleaded.
"Of course I did," she proudly replied. "I even left one spot empty like you see on television, so I can't shoot anything by mistake." God, help us all.
"Grandma, don't," I warned when she cocked the gun. There was a loud bang, a flash from the gun barrel and the chicken carcass moved off its plate, landing closer to Bernie. I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn't feel pain or see Bernie bleeding.
Mom jumped and screamed, "Holy Mary, mother of God!" Her chair fell over as she attempted to get away from the table.
"I left the wrong hole empty," Grandma said. She looked at the chicken carcass. "I shot that sucker right in the preacher's nose. Not bad for my first time shooting a gun."
I ran around the table and grabbed the gun from Grandma before she took another shot. After shaking the bullets free of the cylinder, I shoved everything into my bag. "Do I need to call the cops or an ambulance?" Al asked over the comm unit.
"No," I exhaled. Thankfully, Mom thought I was stopping Grandma from grabbing my bag instead of answering a question she never heard.
"That plate was part of a set. How am I supposed to replace it?" Mom whined. She moved it to expose the hole in the tablecloth and the bullet embedded in the mahogany table's surface.
Suddenly, Grandma had an appetite and asked Bernie to pass the potatoes. I wasn't impressed about Mom trying to set me up with Bernie, but I did learn something from the dinner. Ziggy Kulesza bought his meat from Sal Bocha, the owner of Sal's Butcher Shop, who was known for making book than slicing meat and fish fillets.
Bernie ate two helpings of Mom's Brussels sprout casserole, which I thought was disgusting despite being covered in bacon and cheese. Like a gentleman, Bernie was very nice to me, though he had no chance of dating me because I was legally married. He offered me a ten percent discount that I happily accepted.
I thanked Mom for dinner and walked Bernie to the door, apologizing for Grandma discharging my weapon. He joked about wearing a Kevlar vest if he attended another dinner. Mom gave Bernie all the leftovers, hoping the other Burg women, namely his mother, wouldn't hear about Grandma's antics during dinner.
With a wave over my shoulder, I left the house. It was time to go home. Hopefully, I would find the Cuban Adonis, my husband, in my bed.