Janet Evanovich - Plum Spooky

“Did you buy that?” Diesel asked.

“Partially.”

I slouched lower in my seat and watched the sidewalk across the street. A man came out of the bar at the end of the block and walked toward us, head down. His hair was braided and shoulder length. He looked to be in his late twenties. Slim. Average height. He was wearing work boots and jeans and a dirt-smudged T-shirt. He got even with us and picked his head up to check out a passing car. Holy cow. It was Hector Mendez. He was in my dead file. He failed to appear for court six months ago, and I was never able to find him. And then someone said he was dead. Shot in a gang thing.

“I know that guy,” I said to Diesel. “I looked for him for months and finally gave up.”

I grabbed cuffs and pepper spray out of my bag, shoved them into my jeans pockets, and bolted from the car. Diesel asked if I needed help, but I hit the ground running. No time for small talk. I knew the instant Mendez saw me he‘d take off. He was a small-time drug pusher who was constantly in and out of jail, and this wasn‘t the first time I‘d chased him down.

I was halfway across the street, running flat out, when he spotted me. His eyes went wide, and it was easy to read his lips.

“Oh fuck,” Mendez said.

“Stop!” I yelled. “I want to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I gotta go. I‘m in a hurry.”

I never broke stride, and I had momentum, but he was a better runner. He had long legs and a lot of motivation. We rounded the corner, and he turned down a ser vice road that intersected the block. There were cars parked behind businesses and rooming houses. I saw a sign for the rear entrance to the Laundromat, and suddenly Mendez stopped short. I didn‘t bother to question his reason. I took a flying leap and tackled him, taking him down to the ground. We rolled around cussing and clawing, my knee connected with his gonads, and that was the end of the rolling around. I cuffed him and sprang to my feet, feeling like I‘d just won the calf-roping competition at the county fair.

“I‘m gonna sue,” Mendez said. “My privates are injured. This here‘s some kind of brutality.”

I was breathing heavy, trying to get a grip, and then I saw the reason Mendez had stopped running. He‘d come face-to-face with Wulf. At least, I was pretty sure it was Wulf. He was almost as tall as Diesel but not quite as solid. His hair was black and shoulder length, swept away from his face in waves. His skin was pale and unearthly, like moonlight reflecting off still water. He was shockingly handsome, and his face was disturbingly devoid of expression. He was wearing black dress boots, black slacks, and a lightweight black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He had an expensive watch on his left wrist. And he had a narrow black metal bracelet on his right wrist. He was standing beside a black Ferrari, and he was looking past me.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Diesel standing about twenty feet behind me, relaxed, looking amused.

“Walk away,” Wulf said to Diesel.

Diesel shook his head no. His mouth still held the very small smile, but his eyes were hard.

Wulf moved close to me, wrapped his hand around my arm, and I felt a buzz of electricity run from his hand to my fingertips.

“Get in the car,” he said.

“No.”

“I could snap your neck.”

“And I could shove your nuts into your small intestine with my knee.”

This was absolute bravado on my part. It was one thing to sort of accidentally on purpose connect with Hector Mendez. Kneeing Gerwulf Grimoire would be a whole other ball game. He was flat-out scary, and he radiated power. And I was pretty much frozen to the spot. What I knew for sure was that it would be a huge mistake to get into the car. I was guessing women went into his car in a lot better shape than they came out.

“Release her,” Diesel said.

Wulf‘s voice was low and silky. Wind whispering in the trees. “I won‘t tolerate interference in my business. If necessary, I‘ll destroy you and everyone associated with you.”

Diesel‘s posture was relaxed. No fear visible. “I have a job to do. Nothing personal, but I will do it.”

“We‘ll take this up some other day,” Wulf said.

He released my arm and stepped away from me. There was a blast of heat and a flash of fire, and when the smoke cleared, Wulf was gone. The car was still there.

Diesel was hands on hips, looking disgusted. He gave his head a small shake. “Mr. Hollywood.”

“I didn‘t see nothing,” Mendez said, still on the ground. “I don‘t know what just happened, and I didn‘t see it.”

I made a move to the car, and Diesel pulled me back. “You don‘t want to touch Wulf‘s car,” he said. “You never know what might happen.”

I PROCESSED MENDEZ and returned to Diesel. He was parked in the public lot across the street from the court, and he was zoned out behind the wheel. I slid onto the seat next to him and buckled myself in.

“You look deep in thought,” I said to him.

“I should have known Wulf was in the building.”

“Maybe his blood vessels were expanded.”

Diesel grimaced.

“Or maybe he wasn‘t in the building. Maybe we caught him going in. Maybe he‘d just got there,” I said.

“That‘s a happy idea. That would make me feel much better, because the possibility that I might have lost my ability to sense Wulf depresses the crap out of me.”

“How did he disappear in a flash of fire?”

“The fire and smoke is right out of the Magic for Dummies book. Any nine-year-old kid can do it. And it creates a diversion for his exit.” Diesel rolled the engine over. “Now what?”

“Back to the office so I can collect my capture money.” We got to the office in less than ten minutes, due to the fact that every light was green and traffic was non ex is tent.

Diesel parked at the curb and grinned at me.

“That was pure luck,” I said to him. “I don‘t for one instant believe you can control traffic lights.”

“I didn‘t say anything.”

“You grinned.”

“We could make a bet,” Diesel said.

“Can I set the stakes?”

He shook his head. “No. It‘s my ability that‘s called into question. I think it‘s fair that I set the stakes.”

“No way.”

“Afraid you‘ll lose?”

“Not willing to take a chance.”

“This isn‘t doing a lot for my ego,” Diesel said.

“Your ego doesn‘t seem especially fragile.”

“That doesn‘t mean I can‘t be crushed. I‘m only human… sort of.”

I did a mental eye roll and got out of the car. “If you said that to a health care professional, they‘d shoot you full of Thorazine.”

“Hey, look who‘s here,” Connie said, eyeballing Diesel. “Long time, no see.”

Vinnie stuck his head out of his inner office. “Who‘s here?”

There are many members of my family tree who would like to take an axe to Vinnie‘s limb. He‘s a decent judge of people, and that makes him a good bail bondsman. Unfortunately, he‘s also oily, addicted to every vice possible, and sees nothing wrong with being a sexual deviant, so his score as a human being isn‘t all that great.

“It‘s Diesel,” Connie said. “Stephanie‘s friend.”

“So what are you doing here?” Vinnie asked Diesel. “Are you porking her?”

“Not yet,” Diesel said.

“Why aren‘t you working? What do you do?”

“I work for the power company. I‘m the guy who pushes the disconnect button.”

“That sounds like fun,” Vinnie said.

“It has its moments.”

I gave Connie my body receipt. “You‘ll never guess. Purely by accident, I ran into Hector Mendez.”