Janet Evanovich: Wicked Appetite

“I’m guessing it doesn’t take much to make you fall in love.”

“It takes a lot. You underestimate your cupcakes.”

Forty minutes later, I’d handled everything in sight and lots of things that were hidden away. Nothing tingled, buzzed, burned, or sent me subliminal messages.

“Two possibilities,” Diesel said. “Either the thing isn’t here, or else you’re a dud.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this job. You were the one who decided I had magical powers.”

“Not my call,” Diesel said. “The BUM picked you out of the gene pool.”

“BUM?”

“Board of Unmentionable Marshalls. And you don’t have magical powers. That would be Siegfried and Roy. You have an enhanced ability to detect a certain kind of energy. At least, that’s the theory. You and some weird guy in Florida.”

“That’s it? Only the two of us?”

“Apparently. And the jury is still out on you.”

“Maybe you should be dragging the weird guy around.”

“The critical word in that sentence is weird. I passed him off to an associate.”

“What about Wulf? He must be able to find this thing.”

“Wulf is like me. He can find people. He needs help to find an empowered object. And there are only two ways he can get that help… from the keeper or from you. And he can’t have you. You’re mine.”

“Excuse me?”

Diesel grinned. “Lucky you.”

“What about the guy in Florida?”

“He’s on ice.”

I thought about pinching myself to make sure I was awake, but it was such a cliché I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And what if I was awake? How awful was that? It meant Diesel was real.

“I’m having a nightmare, right?”

“Wrong. I’m real,” Diesel said. “And it wouldn’t kill you to think a good thought about me.”

“Are you thinking good thoughts about me?”

His eyes dilated black and the corners of his mouth softened into the hint of a smile. “Would you like to know my thoughts?”

“No!”

My attention went to a framed photo on an end table. It was a picture of a woman resembling Shirley, a second woman, and two men. They didn’t look like couples. For that matter, they didn’t even look like they were friends. The picture had been taken outdoors, and from the flowers in the background, I was guessing it was summer. The two men and two women were smiling, but their smiles looked forced.

“Do you suppose this is Shirley?” I asked Diesel.

“If it’s Shirley, she was younger and a lot thinner.” He put his hand to my back and moved me toward the door. “We need to get out of here. Shirley is a creature of habit, and she’s due home any minute.”

Enough said. I was out of the apartment like I’d been shot from a cannon. I got ten feet down the hall before Diesel grabbed me from behind and yanked me to a halt.

“Don’t run,” Diesel said, his hand still holding fast to my T-shirt. “It attracts attention.”

I immediately went still. The last thing I wanted to do was attract attention. I looked around. “Do you think anyone saw us leave her apartment?”

“Sweetie, it’s just you and me in the hall.”

“Yes, but all these doors have peepholes. Maybe someone’s looking out a peephole.”

“You need to chill.”

“You’re telling me to chill? I just broke into a woman’s apartment! I never do that sort of thing. I was a law-abiding citizen before I met you. That was illegal entry, gross violation of privacy, and not a nice thing to do. Do you know what happens to people who do breaking and entering and searching and snooping? They go to prison.”

“Not always,” Diesel said.

“Not always? That’s all the comfort you can give me? What kind of an alien are you anyway?”

Diesel steered me into the elevator. “I’m not an alien. I’m a human with Unmentionable abilities… like you.”

“I am not an Unmentionable.”

Diesel punched the first-floor button. “How do you explain your cupcakes?”

“I’m an excellent baker. I’ve always made great cupcakes.”

“Honey, those are Unmentionable cupcakes.”

“That’s ridiculous. My parents never said anything to me about being Unmentionable. It’s not on my birth certificate.”

“Maybe your parents didn’t know. Sometimes the gene is passed from one generation to the next. Sometimes the gene just suddenly appears with no apparent history.” The elevator doors opened to the ground floor and Diesel pushed me out into the small lobby. “Some Unmentionables can throw lightning, some can levitate a dump truck,” Diesel said. “You can make cupcakes. You were born with the Unmentionable cupcake gene.”

I slid a squinty-eyed sidewise look at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t all true.”

We left the building and crossed the sidewalk to Glo. She was waiting in the car, head back, eyes closed, hooked up to her iPod, singing at full volume. Diesel rapped on the back side window, and Glo jumped in her seat.

“Make a mental note,” Diesel said to me. “You don’t want to get caught like that by Wulf. He’ll be all over you in a heartbeat. Stay vigilant when I’m not with you.”

It seemed to me I might be in more danger from Diesel than from Wulf. Wulf only popped up twice, and he left right away. I couldn’t get rid of Diesel, and I really had no way of knowing if he was a good guy or a bad guy.

Diesel looked down at me, and I suspected he knew my thoughts. His eyes darkened ever so slightly, but aside from that, his expression was unreadable.

“What happens if we find this Stone?” I asked him.

“I hand it over to the BUM, and they put it someplace safe,” Diesel said.

“Suppose Shirley doesn’t want to give it to you?”

“I persuade her to change her mind.”

“Would you steal it?”

“That wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“And Wulf?”

Diesel opened the car door for me. “Wulf will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”

We got into the SUV, Diesel plugged the key into the ignition, and we went silent at the sight of a woman walking toward us on the opposite side of the street.

“Is that Cupcake Shirley?” Glo asked, leaning forward from the backseat.

“Yep,” I said. “It’s Shirley.”

Shirley was alone, carrying an oversize purse and a take-home bag from a local restaurant. She had short, curly brown hair and a pretty face. I placed her at late-thirties. She was average height, and her weight was average for a woman who could eat thirty-six cupcakes in a single sitting. She was wearing a flower-print tent dress and low heels.

A silver Camry pulled up next to Shirley, and the guy in the passenger seat rolled his window down and called out to her. We were too far away to hear his words, but Shirley looked annoyed and shook her head no. There was a brief conversation, then Shirley turned and resumed walking. The guy got out, ran after Shirley, and grabbed her by her arm. Shirley spun around, coldcocked him in the face with her purse, and kicked him square in the crotch. The guy stood stunned for a moment, dropped to his knees, and went fetal. Shirley continued on her way.

“Ow,” Diesel said.

The Camry driver got out from behind the wheel, dragged his passenger back to the car, and they took off.

“I know this is weird, but I’m pretty sure those were the men in the photo,” I said to Diesel.

“What photo?” Glo wanted to know.

“Diesel was looking for something in Shirley’s apartment just now, and while we were there, I saw a photo of her and another woman and those two men.”

“Get out!” Glo’s voice shot into Minnie Mouse range. “You were in Cupcake Shirley’s apartment? What were you looking for? Is she a thief? A spy? An Internet porn star?”