Who the Hell?

Chapter Two

Mooncat, I do believe this is two… hmm… you know what that means? Also, I revised Chapter One, after some of your comments and after I started this section, so you may enjoy re-reading. Next two will be up before Friday, I promise (I might even get a third up if I get the next Nisha before then).

I was angry and frustrated. The man beside me had his gun sitting on his lap, loaded and safety off. Didn't he know anything about safety and firearms? We'd been driving for about an hour and I was getting twitchy at the silence. Will had relaxed enough to fall asleep and was now resting upon my shoulder, snoring lightly. He would twitch occasionally and open his eyes blearily before falling back to sleep.

His being in this position was my fault, I was positive. After all, if I'd done as instructed from the beginning, they wouldn't have brought him along to keep me in line. And I would have had a much better chance of escaping this alive – because I wouldn't have had to worry about a child.

Silence had always irritated me, especially in cars. As a child, any trips we took had been noisy – we were Italian and Hungarian, noise was in our blood – and until I'd sat in a car for hours on stakeouts, I'd not even known that a silent experience in a car was possible. To break the silence, I tried talking to the man with the gun.

"So, why did you hold up the Pizza place?" I asked.

That question had been bugging me. Why Pino's, why not somewhere with more money and with less people – hell, less cops would have been a start. Of course, knowing my luck, it wouldn't have mattered where they'd done it; I still would have been involved in some way.

"He scabbed a tenner," the man replied shortly.

"You'd have made more money at the bank," I replied, "and you wouldn't have pissed off as many dangerous people."

"You mean the cops?" he sneered, "hate to break it to you, love, but they were pushing fifty, balding and carrying more weight than brains. They won't save you."

"You certainly have a way with words." I said caustically.

"It's the truth, ain't it?" he demanded.

I didn't want to clue him in that I hadn't been talking about the police, because it was probably bad to give more information to your kidnapper than necessary, so I fell silent after that. I didn't really want to piss him off. After all, he had a gun, I didn't. Nor did I have my cuffs, or my mace or any of my other tools. That really pissed me off. Not that I would have done anything with them, probably, but it would have been nice to have had the option.

When we arrived in New York, he directed me to a large parking facility and I parked the black car. The other black van pulled into the space beside us.

"Get out!" the man commanded, "and carry the brat."

I did as instructed. When psycho's start waving guns around in enclosed spaces, it's usually best to do what they want – just one of those lessons for life. Probably it was on a poster somewhere. Probably I should have it plastered on my forehead. Will woke up as I tried to pick him up and he was wearing the cutest dazed expression I'd ever seen. I asked him kindly to stand beside me and he did so, his arms wrapped tight around my leg, clutching it as though it were a lifeline.

I didn't blame him.

Facing us stood three of the scariest men I'd ever seen. If Tank, Ranger's partner, was built like an army Tank, these guys were built like a fort. I gulped when I saw them and one of the men laughed, "You chose well, 'tor," he said in a deep vicious voice, calling to the man stepping out of the other side of the vehicle "I am going to enjoy her!" he leered at me as he spoke, "for a white girl she's got a big ass booty."

I growled audibly at that, "it's rude to comment on a lady's ass when she's present," I said.

"Lady you ain't heard nothin' yet," one of the others crowed, "and it looks like you're stuck with us for a while, so you wanna watch your lip."

I rolled my eyes, "so where are we going?" I asked, "and I assume you've organized food, because I can tell you I am seriously grumpy if I don't get regular meals." I figured I better get that out upfront because if they seriously expect me to go without food for an extended period, they weren't going to know what hit them. Guys fear PMS, but until they'd seen Stephanie Plum Sans Food, they hadn't seen anything.

They looked at me in a sort of stunned silence and I shrugged, "what?" I asked, "I'm just letting you know. Some of the other psycho's who've kidnapped me forgot to feed me and it didn't turn out well for them."

"Other psycho's? Lady what the fuck are you talking about?" it was the guy who'd been sitting beside me for the whole drive.

"Oh," I said airily, "I get kidnapped a lot. Well," I was thoughtful, "sometimes they skip the kidnapping and go straight to the trying-to-kill-you part of the program."

"Right," he shook his head, clearly disbelieving, and said "anyway, you're going to get into the trunk of that car," he motioned to a beat-up sedan further down the lot, "with the boy."

"How long am I going to be in there for?" I demanded, "and how am I going to breathe?" I didn't even want to ask how they thought I'd fit – especially considering the earlier comment about my ass.

"You'll be there maybe an hour." He said stiffly, "and you'll be able to breathe. If you make any unnecessary noises, I'll blow your head off and the little brat's too. Is that clear?"

I shrugged, "sure." Rule number two when dealing with gun-waving-psycho's, is don't let them see how afraid you really are. Of course, they rarely give a damn.

"Well, get on with it!" the man snapped, when I made no move towards the open trunk of the sedan.

"Hold on a minute," I held up my hand and motioned to Will, "how are we going to do this?" I mean, how were two of us going to fit in there, and how the hell were we going to get in and out of the car?

"We?" he sneered, "there is no we about it. You're going to climb in, and the boy is going to climb in after you, and if you're lucky I won't shoot you both!"

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever." I did what he said though, trying to avoid thinking about being in the trunk of a car with a child for about an hour – it was a petrifying thought.

As I lay down, they commanded me to move further into the trunk and I did, leaving room for William to climb in beside me. He lay down and I spooned him from behind, trying to comfort him.

"Stephanie," he said tearfully, "I'm scared."

"I know, honey," I said, hugging him to me as they closed the trunk, the light disappear, "but it's okay," I tried not to get jumpy at the darkness and the thumps and bumps that reverberated through the car. Apparently someone was getting into the car. "I'm a bit scared too," I admitted, "but we're going to be okay."

"How do you know?" he asked, sniffling.

"Because there are people who will come and find us," I said confidently, "your mommy and daddy for one," I tried to be reassuring, "and the scary cop you saw me with."

"But what if they aren't strong enough?" he asked, "my mommy can't lift heavy things!" He started to cry again.

The car started and I felt as we began to move. It was a terrifying feeling, lying there as the car moved, unable to see where we were going, unable to predict turns. The noise, however, allowed me to speak to Will without fear of being overheard.

"Can you keep a secret?" I asked, talking directly into his ear.

"Yes," he was whispering.

"There is a man in Trenton," I said, "who is searching for us already. He's very strong," I thought about Ranger and the last time I'd seen him with a wistful sigh, "and he has a whole team of strong men who work with him." I hoped he was getting comfort from this, "he's a bit like Batman," I concluded, finally, "and he's going to come and rescue us from the evil people."

"Is he really?" the boy was disbelieving.

"Yes," I said quietly, "I promise." Ranger searching for me was not something that I needed to think about doubting at this point. Doubting him would kill my self-confidence, because the man was right; the cops would be unlikely to be able to rescue us. Although most of them were my friends, he had a point about their age and weight – none of them were really in their prime.

"They've been traced to a car park in New York City," Tank reported as the team drove towards the metropolis "and it's surrounded, but nobody wants to go in because these guys stole all the weapons from the cops – they're loaded with enough weapons to kill everyone in Trenton," Tank shook his head at that fact, speaking over the mic to Lester and Bobby, "not to mention their heat sensor is struggling to pick up a location where they could drop a phone."

Ranger frowned, "we're going in," he said, dialing a 'friend' of his, the NYC Police Commisioner.

"What now?" The man answered with a snap.

"Hold all action on the kidnapping situation at the parking lot," Ranger commanded, "I've got a covert team who'll go in and assess the situation."

"Manoso?" the man sounded suspicious.

"Yes." Ranger confirmed his identity.

"Why are you involved in this?" The man was curious; it was unlike Ranger Manoso to get involved in affairs New York City and although they had a working relationship, it was usually him calling Manoso, not the other way around.

"The girl's one of mine." Ranger was nothing if not blunt and this was not a situation where he had time to deal with bureaucratic bullshit. They needed to know upfront what to expect from him. She was one of his; he'd do whatever it took to get her back. It also meant that he expected to be able to take his team in, in place of letting a police or SWAT team in. Of course, if SWAT got involved, he would be quite happy for their assistance; they were good, and would have been the best if it weren't for Ranger and his team.

The Commisioner sighed, "you are the best," he acknowledged, "it would be an honor to have your experience on this. None of my people want to touch hostage situations, it's too messy."

And that was the truth, Ranger thought. It was rare for a hostage situation to go down cleanly. Usually people died, often hostages, as part of the negotiation process as the perp tried to establish legitimacy with the negotiator. If SWAT got involved, and they usually did, the perp was often injured in taking them down – sometimes fatally. It was the only way these situations seemed to resolve themselves, because official policy is never to concede to the demands of the hostage takers.

Ranger promised, his voice tight and controlled; "I'm getting them out, preferably today! Hopefully without the hostages being injured."

Tank glanced at his friend at that pronouncement, it was a hefty promise and one that he doubted they'd be able to keep – of course he'd never say as much to Ranger, who looked like he was holding on to his sanity by threads.

Ranger hung up and looked at Tank, "I will get her back!" he promised.

Tank just nodded.

The other two members of the team, in the black bronco behind them asked what was going on over the mic and Tank briefly filled them in on their skeleton plan of their 'invasion' of the carpark. They were going in with bad information, four heavily armed threats and two civilians, not to mention in a playground with plenty of hiding spaces and explosion threats.

"So how are we going to play this?" Tank asked, "hostages weren't our specialty."

It was the truth; they'd only had to deal with a hostage situation once before when an old commander from the army had called them in to work alongside SWAT, who were stretched thin at the time. It hadn't gone down well, and they'd lost one member of their team, as had the SWAT team.

"They are now," was the blunt reply. Ranger was determined, Tank noted, that much was clear – but he wasn't thinking straight, he was emotionally entangled in the operation to the point that his judgement might be cloudy. He would refrain from stating as much, however, until he needed to take over.

Ranger sighed, "we'll go in stealthily," he said finally, "in pairs, and find the vehicles and the people. If the people are there, we take out the four men at the same time and walk out with Stephanie and the child."

Tank nodded and relayed the plan over the mic.

Ranger's expression became pained and he looked thoughtful for a moment, "I wish we knew who they were," he grumbled slightly, "and do we have any information about the child yet?"

"The office is working on it," Tank tried to calm his boss, "it should come in over the computer system soon," he said, referring to the PDA that was kept in each car, which could send and receive any pertinent information from the computers at the main office in Trenton.

When they pulled up outside the parking lot, Ranger left it to his men to organize their gear in favor of locating the commissioner, a portly gentleman who'd had far too much time working the streets of New York and trying to clean them of crime. He had quickly discovered the benefits that came from assisting Ranger in any work he had in NYC, and had no plans to lose those benefits any time soon.

Ranger pushed passed the police line, where hundreds of officers were doing their best to keep spectators at bay, and ignored the outraged shout of a young woman who clearly hadn't been on the job too long. He located his target within minutes and strode over, "do you have the map?" he asked.

"Manoso!" the man sounded almost relieved, "thank god! Yes, yes, it's just here." He pushed forward a pile of papers and started pointing out pertinent details.

Tank strolled over at that moment, two bags over his shoulder. He threw one to Ranger, "you get kitted up, we'll sort this out," he instructed the man. He, Lester and Bobby poured over the maps, all three of them already in full combat gear. They ascertained the primary entrances and exits and determined a plan.

Five minutes later, they had a plan that seemed feasible, "Right, you and I are going in here," Tank pointed to the main entrance, "after the power is cut. We're going to clear the first two levels. Bobby and Les are going in this exit and will clear the top two levels. Radio contact at all times. Clear?"

Ranger nodded, "I don't care what happens, Stephanie gets out alive." He said, his voice like ice; letting each person present know that there would be serious pain involved if she didn't, "and the kid," he added as an afterthought.

"Uhh, we would prefer that everybody came out of this alive," said one of the officers standing around and watching the procedures.

Tank eyed the man and wondered how stupid someone could be. He was saved from rescuing the man from his own stupidity and Ranger's temper, when the police commissioner ushered him out of sight in a hurry. Ranger eyeballed him with a fierce glare, "get his name and number," he said, to Tank "when we get out. Clearly he's not aware of who he's dealing with."

With an amused smile at the ripple of fear that spread through those around them, Tank nodded, "will do, Boss."

Ranger smiled a feral smile, "Let's do this!" he commanded.

A thrill ran through Tank's body at the familiar expression, it was one Ranger had used just before they began an operation. It brought back so many emotions and memories and he once again felt as invincible as he had during their days in the military.

"Let's do this!" he confirmed with the response he'd always used. It was echoed by Lester and Bobby and all three of them sported predatory grins just like Ranger's.

They split up and went to their exits after testing the communications, and their night-vision goggles. It wasn't dark yet, but with the power out, the extra visual aid would be an asset that the others would be unlikely to have.

"We're set," Bobby and Lester confirmed a few minutes later.

"Entry in five," Tank commanded. Ranger had too much adrenalin to do it properly, he knew, so he did it before the other man had a chance. This was not an operation they could afford to mess up.

"Four." Tank's stomach started to roll in anticipation, the four of them hadn't been in a situation like this in a long time. It felt good to be working as a team again.

"Three." He took a deep breath and glanced at Ranger, the man standing to lose the most from this – the woman he loved. His partner was holding it together, barely. His face was drawn into a tight mask over his emotions, his gun was in his hand, safety off, his eyes were focused on the entry.

"Two." Bobby and Lester's breathing could be heard over the microphone, a soft rustle, comforting in the knowledge it provided that they were alive – in past missions, the breathing over the mic had been the only thing that kept them going; the knowledge that someone else was alive and needed their support.

"One." He was ready, it was time to kick some ass and rescue the Bombshell Bounty Hunter – hopefully without being blown up in the process, his leg still suffered residual cramps whenever he thought about that redecorating job.

"GO!" Ranger's voice was strong and confident at that moment, commanding them to move.

The game was on.