A/N: All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich. I use them for fun and not profit.

Chapter 18

I stood flanked by Howdy and Ranger watching the scene unfold. Tank stood quietly behind me. I shivered, more from apprehension than actual discomfort from the cold. Joe was standing quietly on the porch, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. Carl and Big Dog were behind him.

The door opened and they all quickly stepped inside. "I hope they have the back covered," I said softly, remembering Mooch's recent escape out the back door and into my waiting vehicle.

"They do," Tank said over my shoulder. "If she's still in there they'll get her." We waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity. My heart was breaking for Joe. He was in his uncle's house with his gun possibly drawn and I knew rumors were already circulating throughout the Burg.

The door opened and Carl stepped onto the porch holding the aluminum screen door open. Big Dog walked out with his meaty hand wrapped around Shirley Blanco's upper arm. Her hands were cuffed at the back of her waist. She kept her head bent looking neither right nor left as she was escorted down the steps and across the lawn. As she was being placed into the back seat of the police cruiser she lifted her head and, with some strange internal radar, focused her gaze on me. I took an involuntary step back and brushed against Tank. He put his hand on my shoulder to steady me and Ranger's arm came around me for support. The venom in Shirley's glare had struck me like a physical blow. Then the door to the cruiser was shut and our unholy connection was lost. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Tank stepped out from behind me and walked down the sidewalk toward Leo's driveway.

"What's he going to do?" I asked.

"Tank is the liaison between RangeMan and the Trenton P.D. for this case. He's been keeping them informed of all RangeMan's attempts at locating Shirley. I imagine he's going to see if they need any information from you or if they have any information to give us."

"You put Tank in charge?" I questioned.

"I did," Ranger said. "Morelli and I have a good working relationship and I want to keep it that way. I thought right now might be a good time to give Morelli a little space from any dealings with me."

I looked up at Ranger. "That was considerate of you, but I'm not sure it's necessary. Joe is very involved with Terry right now. I think he is truly happy for us."

"He may be," Ranger said, "but he and Terry may not survive this. Morelli is a good cop and I'm not sure Terry Gilman is the best girlfriend for a good cop."

Ranger's words were prophetic. The front door to Leo Morelli's house opened again and Morelli came storming out dragging Terry Gilman behind him. Finding Terry with Mooch can't have been a good thing for Joe.

"Joe!" she whined. "Joey, wait. Listen to me. It's not what it looks like. Mooch means nothing to me." Her words drifted down the block to us as Joe pulled her across the yard and over to his car parked at the curb. He looked up to see Tank approaching him and opened the passenger door for Terry. She got in and he leaned in to say something to her before he slammed the door shut. He walked toward Tank and they talked for a few moments. They shook hands and Tank continued walking toward the black and white where Carl and Big Dog were waiting, apparently for the okay to take Shirley to the station.

Joe looked down the block and our eyes met. As he walked toward us I could see the tension in every step he took. I was an expert when it came to reading Joe's body language. For once I was glad all that Italian ire wasn't directed toward me, but I couldn't find it in my heart to feel sorry for Terry. Joe stopped in front of me.

"We got her. She's been mirandized and arrested. Carl and Big Dog will be taking her in shortly. She's not admitting anything and she is demanding to talk to her attorney. I imagine he'll be meeting her at the station. By the way, her attorney is Dickie Orr."

"What?" I asked with disbelief. "He can't be her lawyer. He's not a defense attorney. She just said that to get back at me. She knows what an ass Dickie is. She worked with me when Dickie and I were married and divorced."

Joe shrugged his shoulders, "That's who she asked to have called."

I reached out and touched Joe's sleeve. "Thanks, Joe. Thanks for all your help with this."

He stared at me for a moment and then gave me a tight smile. "Just doing my job, Cupcake. Just doing my stinking job." He turned abruptly toward Ranger and stuck out his hand.

Ranger hesitated just for a moment before taking his arm from around my shoulders and shaking Joe's hand. "For what it's worth," Joe said, "congratulations. On some level, I actually wish you two happiness." He gave Ranger a half-smile and turned to walk back toward Terry waiting in his car. The police cruiser backed off the driveway and took Shirley Blanco out of my life.

Tank rejoined us and turned to Howdy. "C'mon. Give me a ride back to RangeMan."

"I'm supposed to take Stephanie to her apartment," Howdy said. "There are movers there waiting for her to start packing." Ranger looked from me to Howdy and nodded his head in Tank's direction.

"Take Tank back," he said to Howdy. "I'll take Steph by her place."

"Wait," I said. "Does anybody have to take me to my apartment? My stalker is on her way to jail. Can't I take myself to my apartment?"

Ranger's hand slipped into his pocket and came out with the keys to the Porsche. He handed them to me. "I'll go back to RangeMan with Tank and Howdy," he said. "Call if you need anything."

I took the keys and went up on my tiptoes to kiss Ranger on the cheek. "Thanks. I'll see you this evening." I turned on my heel and headed toward the Porsche. No babysitters today! It was finally starting to sink in. My stalker was in custody, I had a husband who would welcome me home at the end of the day and I had keys to his Porsche. Suddenly I was in the mood to pack and move.

I pulled into my lot and parked the Porsche in the far corner. Watching some of the elderly residents of my building trying to park their cars reminded me of bumper cars at the amusement park and I wasn't taking any chances. I ran up the stairs totally avoiding the elevator and stopped short at the sight of my apartment door standing open. Cautiously, I approached the door and listened. I didn't hear anything. "Hello," I called out. Mooner's head popped around the open door.

"Hey, Dudette," he said, his eyes at half mast, "Me and Dougie have been waiting on you."

I walked in to see stacks of cardboard boxes sitting in the middle of the living room. "What are you guys doing here?" I asked.

"That Tank dude hired us," Mooner said. "We're moving you into storage."

"Yeah," Dougie joined in. "We're taking everything you don't want moved and putting it into storage. And if there's stuff you just don't want at all, well, uh, I've got a little resale business going again, so we could help you with that too."

I was feeling better by the minute. Mooner and Dougie would be great movers. It occurred to me I'd better give Dillon a heads up about moving. "I need to go downstairs and talk to Dillon," I said. "You guys can put all the furniture in storage for now. When I come back upstairs I'll go through my personal stuff and see what I'm taking."

As I walked downstairs I began to reminisce about my apartment. It was the place where Joe and I had first become friends. It was the place Ranger and I had first become lovers. It was Rex's first home. I was happy to be moving on in my life, but by the time Dillon opened his door to me I was in tears.

He ushered me in and sat me in a chair and went to the kitchen. He returned with two tall cans of beer, the Dillon solution to just about anything.

"I'm m-m-moving out!" I bawled. He gave me a Kleenex and I wiped my tears and took a big swig of the beer. Half a beer later, I was calmer and able to talk to him. "Ranger and I are married. I'm giving up my apartment and I'm just a little sad. I was remembering all the good things that happened here."

One beer led to another and we discussed all the things I'd been through. Dillon mentioned the time my apartment was firebombed and I'd lost everything. Then he talked about the time I'd shot a man in my bedroom, and the time I was firebombed again. We remembered when I found Lula beaten and left for dead on my fire escape. Not to mention the snakes.

Talking to Dillon helped immensely. He'd made me realize there were more bad memories than good and all at once I was ready to move into seven. I stood up stretching and almost fell over a small pile of empty beer cans. I was more than a little tipsy. The wall clock showed I'd been downstairs for almost two hours. I bent down and started gathering up the dead soldiers.

"Don't worry about the cans," Dillon said. "I'll get them later. I'll go up with you. I probably need to look around the apartment." We started up the stairs, me in front and Dillon behind. I'd lost track of the number of beers I'd had, but my spinning head reminded me I'd skipped lunch. From behind me Dillon said, "I'll need to take a look at your bathroom. If you're moving out the management will want to redo the bathroom before the next tenant moves in."

I was half way up the stairs when his words sunk in. The hideous brown and orange tiled bathroom I'd hated since I'd moved in was going to be replaced. I spun around quickly and grabbed his shoulder. "They're replacing my bathroom?" I asked incredulously.

"Sure," Dillon said. "Every time someone moves they always upgrade the apartment. That way they can charge more rent." I slugged his shoulder.

"No way!" My vehemence took him by surprise and the almost full can in his hand flew back, struck the wall and fell to the floor at the bottom of the stairs, spewing a small fountain of beer. Dillon bent over backwards and tried to grab the beer. He lost his balance and as he started to fall I reached out to grab him. He wrapped his hands around my arm and pulled me with him.

Arms and legs akimbo, we cartwheeled down the stairwell. I landed on my back, spread-eagled in a puddle of beer. Dillon tried to catch himself, but he landed on top of me with a lung-emptying, rib-bruising smack. We lay unmoving for a few seconds then I arched my back trying to roll him off. He drew up a knee and began to lift himself up. When his knee slipped in the beer he came crashing back down.

A shadow crossed my line of vision and I looked up to see Ranger and Lester, whose mouth was hanging open in a silent 'Oh!' The lack of air in my lungs and the dead weight of Dillon were conspiring to make little black dots dance in front of my eyes. The dots were in the way and I couldn't clearly see Ranger's expression. Finally I managed to grunt out, "It's not what it looks like!"

"Babe," Ranger said, "what it looks like is painful." He and Lester came down the stairs and Lester pulled Dillon off me. Ranger helped me to my feet and said, "I've been trying to get hold of you for almost two hours. We decided to come over and make sure you were okay."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I think I left my phone upstairs. Dillon's been helping me move." Lester took a good look at Dillon and then at me. He breathed in air I knew smelled like a brewery. "Dillon's been helping me move, emotionally," I said. "We've been talking about me giving up my apartment."

Lester leaned close and whispered in my ear, "I thought you learned your lesson after Mr. Poughkeepsie." His smirk was knowing and then in a louder voice he said, "While the two of you were downstairs emotionally moving, Dougie and Mooner physically cleaned out your apartment upstairs."

"What!" I exclaimed. "They were supposed to move the furniture and then wait for me."

"It's true, Babe." Ranger said as his arm came around me. "Dougie and Mooner are gone. Your apartment is empty except for your purse, phone and a Pleasure Treasures bag."

"Which Ranger wouldn't let me open," Lester interjected.

I looked at the stairs then walked over and pushed the elevator button. My head was really spinning after the fall. Mrs. Bestler had the day off so the ride to two was uneventful. I rushed through my apartment door to find it just as Ranger said.

"Where are they?" I wailed. "Where's my stuff?" and I began to cry.

Two hours later I was showered and mostly sober, sitting at the kitchen bar on seven. Ranger was watching me eat a peanut butter and olive sandwich and wash it down with a cold glass of milk. Dougie and Mooner and all my worldly possessions had been found at the Chambersburg Self-Storage Center. Ranger made the decision to leave my worldly possessions there so I could go through them at my leisure. I think he'd also made the decision never to hire Dougie and Mooner again.

I sighed as I finished my sandwich. "I guess it's for the best," I said. "My junk never would have fit into this space. It's already full of your stuff.

Ranger held out his hand to me. "Come with me, Steph. I want to show you something." We walked hand in hand to the foyer of the apartment. I looked down at my feet covered in red fuzzy socks.

"Wait," I said. "If we're leaving I need to put some shoes on."

"You won't need them, Babe." He led me out the door and around the corner to a door I'd always assumed was a storage closet. He pulled keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open. I looked inside to see a large empty room with a wall of windows facing the west. The weak light of the late winter afternoon was coming in through the windows and I could see the space was huge.

What is this?" I asked.

"It could be our new home," Ranger said. "It adjoins my apartment and is roughly twice the square footage. I didn't want or need the space for my apartment so the architect left it empty when my place was built. We could make a separate, second apartment or we could turn the entire floor into one space. Your call, Babe."

I was silent looking at a space I hadn't known existed. "The apartment is mine," Ranger continued. "I want someplace that is ours. Someplace for your stuff to live with my stuff, permanently, in harmony."

I stayed quiet looking into the cavernous space. Ranger walked through the door way and pulled me in next to him. He kicked the door shut and wrapped his arms around me. His voice was rough as he said, "Babe, we need to talk. Now." I pulled back to look at his face. No blank face this time. His eyes glittered with emotion. I was so unused to seeing his feelings on his face I couldn't tell whether our talk was going to be good or bad. But I agreed. It was time.