“I'm coming up the stairs,” Tank called to Butchy. “When I get to the top I want you unarmed, face down on the floor with your hands where I can see them.”
I looked up and saw Butchy ass first, half out the window above me. He was waiting for Tank to get to the top of the stairs and then Butchy was going to go out the window, onto the small roof over the stoop, and drop to the ground.
I ducked into the doorway so Butchy wouldn't see me. I held my breath and waited to hear him on the roof. Tank got to the top of the stairs, Butchy's feet scuffed on the roof, and I jumped out. I had my gun two-?handed and I yelled for Butchy to stop and freeze.
“I've got him,” I yelled to Tank. “He's on the porch roof.”
Tank jogged down the stairs and moved to join me on the small patch of front lawn. He cleared the porch just as Butchy catapulted himself off the roof, and the two of them crashed to the ground with Butchy on top of Tank.
I rushed in and grabbed Butchy by the arm, cuffing him behind his back while he still had the air knocked out of him. I rolled him off Tank and shoved him aside. Tank was on his back with his leg twisted at an impossible angle.
“Just shoot me,” Tank said. “It'd be less painful.”
I called EMS and then I called Ranger. A half hour later, Tank was rolled into the EMS truck, his leg held stable by an
inflated cast.
Ranger and I stood side by side and watched the truck disappear around the corner. A big, bald, jug-?headed guy, neatly dressed in black jeans and T-?shirt, stood by Tank's truck. He had his muscle-?bound, bulging arms crossed over his massive chest and his tiny eyes fixed on Ranger and me.
“I need to go to the hospital and get Tank admitted,” Ranger said. “I've asked Cal to follow you around.”
“Cal has a flaming skull tattooed onto his forehead. And he has muscles in places muscles aren't supposed to grow. Cal looks like . . . Steroidasaurus.”
“Don't underestimate him,” Ranger said. “He can spell his name. He's not overly violent as long as he remembers to take his medication. And he gives good shade.”
I did a grimace.
Ranger pulled me to him and kissed me on the forehead. “You two are going to get along just fine.” Ranger stepped back and turned to Butchy, who was sitting cuffed and shackled on the curb. He grabbed Butchy, dragged him to his feet, and handed him over to Steroidasaurus.
It was almost six when we left the police station. Butchy was chained to a bench across from the docket lieutenant. Steven Wegan was in the lock up. I had body receipts for both of them. Not a bad day in terms of income. Not a great day in terms of Tank's leg. Definitely a weird day, having spent it in the company of Ranger's Merry Men.
Halfway through town my cell phone rang. “Your sister's in labor,” Grandma said. “She was working her way through a Virginia baked ham when she started getting contractions.”
“Is she going to the hospital?”
“She's trying to decide if it's time. Do you think I should call Albert?”
“Definitely call Albert. It's his baby, too. He's been going to the birthing classes with Valerie.”
“It's just that she's not in a good mood. You know how it is when she gets disturbed in the middle of a ham.”
Stephanie Plum 9 - To The Nines
Chapter Twelve
Valerie was sitting on the couch in the living room when I arrived. She was doing her breathing exercises and rubbing her stomach. My mother and grandmother were standing beside her, watching. The two girls were on the floor, staring bug-?eyed at Valerie. My father was in his chair in front of the television, channel surfing.
“So,” I said. “What's up?”
The front door crashed open behind me and Albert stumbled in. “Am I too late? Did I miss anything? What's going on?”
“Mommy's having a baby,” Angie said.
Mary Alice nodded her head in agreement.
Albert looked terrible. His shirt was un-?tucked and his eyes were glassy. His face was chalk white with red spots high on his cheeks.
“You don't look so good,” Grandma said to Albert. “How about a ham sandwich?”