14bis Plum Spooky by Janet Evanovich Page B

and no one was coming out.
    “We don‘t need two people to do this. I should take off and watch the guy at the mall,” I said to Diesel.
    “Give me a break. You just want to go shopping.”
    I rolled my eyes so far into the top of my head I almost went unconscious, and I did a huge snort of indignation. This all in spite of the fact that he was right.
    “You are so annoying,” I said.
    “I try my best.”
    “Tell me again why I need to sit here with you.”
    “If I stay here alone and Wulf shows up instead of Munch, he‘ll sniff me out and vanish. And then he might not come back, and we‘ll have lost our lead. The real question is why do I have to sit here with you . I could be taking a nap in your nice, comfy bed right now.”
    “Good grief.”
    “Don‘t you want to know why I‘m here?” Diesel asked.
    “No.”
    He grinned at me and tugged at my ponytail. “I‘m here to protect you so you don‘t get hurt in this bad neighborhood.”
    I didn‘t know how to react to this. I was sort of offended but at the same time grateful. And deep down inside, I knew it was bullshit. He was here hoping Wulf would show up.
    “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