Chapter 8
The small dirty shabby apartment is now empty. A beer bottle stands all
alone on the tattered coffee table. The air smells of dust and
negligence. And Stephanie Plum, the woman Emily Hasting despises and hates like no other,
is nowhere to be seen. Her rat of a pet is also gone. A couple pairs of old torn jeans and several stained t-shirts quietly lie on the floor. Shoes—high-heels and sneakers alike—remain scattered everywhere. The slightly tacky-looking table clock keeps on ticking. The locks tumble. The front door silently opens. A slender shadow cautiously sneaks in on tiptoes. With a gun in its steady hand. It's a Glock 19. Stephanie's car key, along with her stun gun, handcuffs, two packs of Tastykakes, a half-full tube of mascara and a half-empty tube of lip-gloss, stays hidden unnoticed inside her shoulder bag the moment Emily Hasting lets out an inhuman growl of utter anger and frustration.
Yes, both Emily and Elizabeth resent surprises and changes of plans.
Stephanie Plum keeps on walking. For once she chose to walk down the stairs of her apartment instead of taking the elevator. She didn't want to risk running into the ever so kind old Mrs. Bestler. She did forget about her car key in her sudden rush to leave, but she didn't want to climb all the way back up for it. She didn't and still doesn't want to go back into her apartment. It reminds her too much of her mess of a life and fucked-up relationship. So she decided to walk. All the way to Haywood. All the way to RangeMan. All the way to Ranger.
She feels the sun in her face. It's warm but not scorching. She feels the summer breeze. It's neither cool nor refreshing. She breathes in the familiar Jersey air. She listens to the noises of the traffic. She watches the cars fly by. 18-wheelers. Trucks. Fords, Hondas, and a few Audis. Rex is still hiding inside his hamster cave. And she has Ranger's keys with her. They are all she needs.
Detective Morelli ends the phone call, swallows the last bite of his lunch and stands up from the messy desk. Thanks to the ever alert and diligent FBI, his afternoon is now free. He's going to has some quality time with Stephanie. And though he's still unsure if he really wants to get married and have kids, he knows for a fact that they are both going have a lot of fun. And maybe he does love Stephanie. He smiles and thinks to himself. She always reminds him of cupcakes. So soft. So fluffy. Full of fun. A miniature of pleasure. So sweet. And so easy.
A shining black car stops by the side of the road. The tall dark muscular driver clad in black hits the horn. Stephanie Plum turns to looks at him, smiles, and then gets in.
Yes, both Emily and Elizabeth resent surprises and changes of plans.
Stephanie Plum keeps on walking. For once she chose to walk down the stairs of her apartment instead of taking the elevator. She didn't want to risk running into the ever so kind old Mrs. Bestler. She did forget about her car key in her sudden rush to leave, but she didn't want to climb all the way back up for it. She didn't and still doesn't want to go back into her apartment. It reminds her too much of her mess of a life and fucked-up relationship. So she decided to walk. All the way to Haywood. All the way to RangeMan. All the way to Ranger.
She feels the sun in her face. It's warm but not scorching. She feels the summer breeze. It's neither cool nor refreshing. She breathes in the familiar Jersey air. She listens to the noises of the traffic. She watches the cars fly by. 18-wheelers. Trucks. Fords, Hondas, and a few Audis. Rex is still hiding inside his hamster cave. And she has Ranger's keys with her. They are all she needs.
Detective Morelli ends the phone call, swallows the last bite of his lunch and stands up from the messy desk. Thanks to the ever alert and diligent FBI, his afternoon is now free. He's going to has some quality time with Stephanie. And though he's still unsure if he really wants to get married and have kids, he knows for a fact that they are both going have a lot of fun. And maybe he does love Stephanie. He smiles and thinks to himself. She always reminds him of cupcakes. So soft. So fluffy. Full of fun. A miniature of pleasure. So sweet. And so easy.
A shining black car stops by the side of the road. The tall dark muscular driver clad in black hits the horn. Stephanie Plum turns to looks at him, smiles, and then gets in.
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