Takedown Twenty: A Stephanie Plum Novel

by Evanovich, Janet

  Lula had her head out the window while she cruised a four-block grid. “Here, Kevin!” she called. “Come get your lettuce!”

  We didn’t see Kevin, and we didn’t see Sunny or his goons.

  “I hope nothing happened to Kevin,” Lula said.

  “Maybe he had a late night and he’s sleeping,” I said. “Why don’t we leave the lettuce, and we can come back later.”

  Lula dumped the lettuce out at the corner of Fifteenth and Freeman, we took one last ride around, and Lula drove to the mall.

  “I gotta see how much one of them genuine Brahmin bags costs,” Lula said. “I like my Brakmin okay, but it’s no Brahmin.”

  “I think a Brahmin bag might be pricey.”

  “I could save up for it. I could get a night job, if you know what I mean.”

  “I thought you didn’t do that anymore.”

  “I’ve been doing it in the name of passion, so I don’t see where it’d hurt to do it once or twice for the sake of being fashionable. I mean, I got a passion to get a Brahmin bag, so where’s the difference, right?”

  We passed by the store’s shoe department without so much as a glance and found ladies’ handbags. Lula went straight to the Brahmins.

  “There’s too many,” she said. “How am I supposed to choose when they got all these colors? It’s true that none of them got crystals like my Brakmin, but that’s on account of these bags are real classy. These bags are ladies’ bags.”

  “That might leave you out since you’re planning on buying one by selling your wares on a street corner.”

  “There’s no rules saying a lady can’t do a BJ,” Lula said. “And some of these bags aren’t so expensive. I could have one of these bags in no time.”

  “You could also make money by helping me capture Sunny,” I told her.

  “That’s true,” Lula said. “I don’t have much confidence in that happening, but I guess we could give it another try.”

  We drove back to Fifteenth and Morgan and sat there for a half hour.

  “Nothing’s happening,” Lula said. “This is boring. I say we get out and walk around. Maybe we’ll come across Kevin.”

  We walked three blocks down Fifteenth and turned onto Willard. We walked one block on Willard and turned onto Sixteenth.

  “This is good,” Lula said. “I bet we already walked off those donuts what with walking in the mall and walking here.” She stopped and tipped her nose up and sniffed the air. “I think I might have just caught a whiff of giraffe.”

  I looked around. I sniffed. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “That’s because you aren’t so finely tuned to Kevin as I am.” She walked twenty paces down Sixteenth. “Yep, that’s giraffe I’m smelling. He’s up there in front of us. I bet he’s heading for Freeman Street.”

  “Freeman and Fifteenth is ground zero for Uncle Sunny Land,” I said. “I think we should stay away from that block.”

  “Yeah, but Kevin’s going after his lettuce. He’ll be real disappointed if he don’t get to see who’s been leaving him all that delicious food.”

  “He’ll be even more disappointed if the food stops showing up because Sunny’s goons drilled you full of bullet holes.”

  “Hey, I didn’t shoot Uncle Sunny. I was just a innocent bystander. I’m pretty sure the goons got that figured out. You’re the one they want to drill full of holes.”

  “I didn’t shoot Sunny!”

  “I know that and Uncle Sunny knows that and you know that,” Lula said, “but the rest of the world don’t know that.”

  “Well, I’m going to be careful until the rest of the world knows I didn’t shoot Sunny.”

  “I’m not sure the rest of the world cares,” Lula said. “I’m thinking they might want to shoot you anyway.”

  “This is ridiculous. I’m a nonviolent person. I hate the Godfather movies. I get nauseous when I see Bruce Willis bleeding. I never even carry a gun. Why do people want to shoot me?”

  “Because you’re a bounty hunter?”

  “I need a new job.”

  “You say that all the time,” Lula said, “but I don’t see you getting a new job. And just because you got a new job don’t mean people won’t want to shoot you. For instance, you get a job as a chef or interior decorator, and I bet some people want to shoot you.”

  “I could sell shoes.”

  “Yeah, you’d get to spend time on your knees, looking up people’s hoo-has. I can’t see you doing that job neither. That’d be a job for Vinnie.”

  “Maybe we should split up. You go look for Kevin, and I’ll make my way back to the car. I’ll meet you there in a half hour.”

  “That sounds like a plan. You want my gun?”

  “No!” Even if I’d had a gun I didn’t think I could shoot it with my two fingers splinted together.

  “Yell if you need help,” Lula said.

  “I’ll be fine,” I told her.

  I was happy with the plan. It was a beautiful day, and I didn’t mind walking. You see things on foot that you miss in a car. You hear things. You meet people. Sunny owned properties here. He did business here. He had friends and also enemies here. And probably Vinnie was right. Sunny’s enemies would be more helpful than his friends.

  This block of Sixteenth was primarily residential. The conjoined redbrick houses had originally been single family but were now subdivided into flats. Most were nicely maintained. No gang graffiti. No burned-out crack houses. No rats scurrying around in the gutters. There also were no yards or porches. Each house had a front stoop that was three or four steps high. This allowed for small basement windows. A few of the houses had first-floor businesses. A bridal shop, a realtor, a tailor who was most likely a front for something.

  I passed an older woman carrying a grocery bag, but that was it for foot traffic. Car traffic was almost as sparse. I reached the end of the block and crossed the street. I walked past two row houses, and a black SUV rolled down the street and parked in front of me. Two guys got out of the SUV and pulled guns. I turned to run and saw the black Lincoln Town Car idling at the curb behind me. Shorty and Moe got out and walked toward me. Moe had his gun drawn. Shorty was holding a stun gun.

  I didn’t see any little businesses on this block. No open apartment building doors. No place to run for shelter. I could sprint across the street and start trying doors, but they’d be on me if the first door didn’t open. I grabbed my cellphone, pressed the speed dial for Ranger, and took off. I was across the street, attempting to get into a house with my phone still in my hand, when I felt the stun gun charge rip through me. After that it was all mental confusion and scrambled muscle connections.

  The fog started to clear and I found myself in total darkness. I had a vague memory of being carried. I was in a cramped position, unable to straighten my legs. My hands were cuffed behind my back. I lay perfectly still, trying to clear my head, fighting the panic that was burning in my chest. I could feel motion and bumps. I was in the trunk of a car. The Lincoln, I thought.

  I could scream, but that wasn’t going to do me any good while the car was moving. I was pressed against something hard and scratchy, and it was preventing me from maneuvering my legs into a position to kick anything.

  The car came to a stop, and I started screaming. The lid to the trunk opened, and I saw daylight and Moe looking down at me.

  “That screaming’s annoying,” Moe said. “If you don’t stop I’m going to zap you again.”

  “Where are we?”

  “We’re on the bridge. You’re going swimming.”

  Shorty and another guy came around and helped Moe wrangle me out of the trunk. The job was made more difficult by the fact that a cinderblock was attached to my ankle by a long rope.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, looking down at the cinderblock. “Mob guys don’t actually do this.”

  “Turns out, we do,” Moe said.

  Cars were zipping by, drivers gawking. Some honked their horns and waved.

&nb
sp; Moe waved back. “They think we’re making a movie or something.” He slammed the trunk closed. “We usually do this at night, but I got to go to an anniversary party for my in-laws.”

  The SUV was parked behind the Lincoln. One guy was behind the wheel and the other guy was standing next to Shorty, taking it all in.

  “Okay, here we go,” Moe said. “We’ll alley-oop her over the guardrail.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

  “That’s one of those questions that got an obvious answer,” Moe said. “You’re a pain in the ass, and you won’t go away. And you shot Sunny.”

  “I didn’t shoot Sunny. Rita shot Sunny.”

  “I wouldn’t find that hard to believe,” Moe said, “but we got our orders.”

  The guy from the SUV gave a grunt and hefted the cinderblock.

  “No! Help!” I yelled. “Helllllllp!”

  “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Moe said to me. “Always the pain in the ass.”

  “Help!” I screamed. “Somebody help me!”

  Some cars slowed to look, but no one stopped.

  “For crissake,” the SUV guy said. “Move her! I’m gonna pop a hemorrhoid holding this motherfucking cinderblock.”

  Moe had me by one arm, and Shorty had me by the other. I was struggling against them, kicking out with the foot not tied to the cinderblock, but I was losing ground. They got me to the guardrail, and I could see the Delaware River dark and deep, swirling away from the bridge abutments.

  I was still screaming and kicking as I was lifted off my feet, and I felt the guardrail against my back.

  “Shove her over,” the SUV guy said.

  “I’m fucking trying,” Moe said. “We should have tied her other foot.”

  I connected with Shorty’s crotch and heard him expel a woof of air. He released my arm and doubled over. The SUV guy dropped the cinderblock and grabbed me. There was a lot of swearing and grunting and struggling, and I went over the side. I dropped about ten feet, heard something go thunk, and I hung there, twirling around in the breeze.

  “What the fuck?” Moe said.

  “The goddamn block is stuck,” the SUV guy said.

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “No. It got pulled into the guardrail when she went over, and it’s caught there.”

  I heard more grunting and swearing and then a moment of silence.

  “It’s not coming loose,” the SUV guy said.

  “So cut the rope,” Moe said.

  “I haven’t got a knife,” the SUV guy said. “You got one?”

  “Isn’t there one in the car?”

  “Why would we have a knife in the car? In case we want to cut salami? I don’t use a knife. I’m a gun guy.”

  “Great. Then fucking shoot the rope,” Moe said.

  I heard someone leaning on a horn, more swearing, and the sound of men running. There was shouting and car noise, but I couldn’t sort any of it out. I had my own problems. I was hanging upside down by one foot with my heart racing and the rope biting into my ankle.

  I tilted my head to look up at the bridge and saw Ranger straddling the guardrail.

  “Try to stay still,” he said to me. “I’m going to pull you up, but you have to stop twirling. You’re loosening the knot.”

  I instantly froze, but I was still gently swaying, and I felt the knot slip. A heartbeat later I was in free fall. I caught a glimpse of Ranger flying off the bridge after me. I curled into a cannon-ball position, and took a deep breath a split-second before I hit the water. I plunged below the surface and came out of my fetal position disoriented. I felt myself being pushed up, and in the longest moment of my life I struggled not to breathe and suck in river water. I surfaced sputtering and gasping for air. I went under briefly and was pushed up again. I could feel Ranger against my back, his arm wrapped around me.

  “Relax!” he shouted. “I’m going to float with the current and tow you in.”

  I tried to tell him I could swim, but I was shaking and my teeth were chattering and I couldn’t get any words formed. By the time we reached the bank there were four Rangeman guys in the water waiting to help us, and an EMS truck and a police car were idling a short distance away, lights flashing.

  I was pulled out of the water and wrapped in a blanket. Someone removed the cuffs. Ranger held me tight against him, his cheek against mine.

  “You’re okay,” he said. “You’re safe.”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  He stepped back and looked at me. “Anything broken?”

  I shook my head. “N-n-n-no.”

  “Do you need to get checked out by the EMS tech?”

  “N-n-n-no.”

  “I need to take care of things here,” he said. “I’m going to have Tank take you home. You can talk to the police after you’ve had a shower and gotten into dry clothes.”

  “It was M-m-moe and Shorty,” I said. “Damn, I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Adrenaline burn-off,” Ranger said. “It’s normal.”

  “Why aren’t you sh-sh-shaking?”

  “I’m not normal.”

  ELEVEN

  TANK IS APPROPRIATELY named. He’s big and indestructible. He’s second in command at Rangeman, and he’s the guy Ranger trusts to watch his back. A while back he dated Lula, but Lula was allergic to his cats, and Tank wasn’t giving up his cats for love or money or Lula.

  “Your messenger bag is on the backseat,” Tank said. “We found it in the Lincoln. Good thing they threw it in with you, or we wouldn’t have been able to track you down.”

  “Did you capture Moe and Shorty?”

  “They took off in the SUV, and Hal and Gino and five police cars went after them.”

  I retrieved my bag from the backseat, found my cellphone, and dialed Lula.

  “Where the heck are you?” Lula asked. “I’ve been standing here by the car, waiting for you.”

  “I sort of got kidnapped and thrown in the river, but I’m okay now. Tank is driving me home.”

  “Say what?”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. I’ll tell you about it later. Did you find Kevin?”

  “No, but there was some homeless guy eating Kevin’s lettuce. I gave him five bucks for a bottle of wine and he left.”

  “Are you going to Bingo tonight?”

  “I’m gonna pass. I got a date.”

  “Does your date involve standing on a corner?”

  “Maybe for a moment.”

  I disconnected, and Tank looked over at me. “Seemed to me that it was a big deal.”

  I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. “I’m trying to forget.”

  “Don’t forget too much or it might happen again.”

  The very thought made me shudder.

  A half hour later Tank walked me to my door.

  “Would you like me to stay?” he asked.

  “Not necessary. But thank you. I’m fine.”

  I closed and locked my door. I looked in at Rex and told him not to worry, because I was okay. And then I burst into tears. I cried all through my shower and halfway through drying my hair. I’d stopped sobbing, but my eyes were red and my nose was still leaking, when my cellphone rang.

  “I’m at your door,” Morelli said. “You’re supposed to be in there, according to Ranger, but I’m pounding on your door, and you’re not answering.”

  “I didn’t hear you. I had the hair dryer going.”

  I opened the door to Morelli, and he scooped me into him.

  “You’re crushing me,” I said. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to find out the woman you love has just been thrown off a bridge? My heart stopped beating. Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

  “I got some scratches and bruises, but nothing serious. Mostly I was terrified. I was so scared I don’t even remember hitting the water.”

  His cellphone buzzed with a text message.

  “I hate this thing,” Morelli said, ey
es on the message.

  “It’s okay if you have to go. All I want to do is sleep. Now that I’m warm and dry, I’m flat out done.”

  He kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll call when I get a break.”

  I locked up after him, crawled into bed, put a pillow over my head, and instantly fell asleep.

  I woke up when the pillow got lifted off and Ranger looked down at me.

  “Babe.”

  “Getting dropped into the Delaware is exhausting.”

  Ranger was sitting on the side of the bed, and he was looking comfortably dry and perfectly groomed in Rangeman black fatigues. There was almost always a softness to his mouth that was sensuous and youthful, but his eyes were dark and serious and reflected his troubled history.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m doing great.”

  And that was true. Turns out I’m very resilient. All I need is some chattering teeth, about an hour of uncontrollable sobbing, some sleep, and I’m ready to face the world again. Plus I was pretty sure there was one last leftover hot dog in my fridge, and that would make everything just about perfect.

  “I wish I could say the same,” Ranger said. “I’m having a hard time erasing the vision of you falling from the bridge.”

  “Yes, but you jumped in and saved me. You’re my hero.”

  “Being your hero is a full-time job. I worry that someday I’m not going to get to you in time.”

  “I didn’t know you worried about anything.”

  “I worry about everything.”

  “What happened to Moe and Shorty and the two guys in the SUV? Were they captured?”

  “They were captured and booked, and they’re already out on bail.”

  “They tried to kill me! They were serious. How could they get released?”

  “Sympathetic judge. Would you consider moving into Rangeman until we get this sorted out?”

  “It’s tempting, but no.”

  Rangeman was headquartered in an under-the-radar office building on a quiet side street in the center of the city. There was secure underground parking and seven secure floors aboveground. Ranger’s one-bedroom, one-bath private apartment, professionally decorated in earth tones with black accents, occupied the entire seventh floor. It was calm and cool and immaculate, thanks to the building’s housekeeper, Ella. The problem was with the bed: Ranger slept in it.