Game On: Tempting Twenty-Eight (Stephanie Plum #28)(69)

“So, what is it about him that you dislike?”

“I went to grade school and to summer camp with him. He lied and cheated his way through. He didn’t have to. He has a genius-level IQ. He found it amusing to game the system. I did, too, but I wasn’t as good as Wulf.”

“That’s why you dislike him? Because he’s better at lying and cheating than you are?”

Diesel grinned. “No. I was good enough at lying and cheating to get by. Wulf was the sneaky loner who put snakes in sleeping bags at camp and never got caught.”

“Did he put a snake in your sleeping bag?”

“Only once.”

Wulf wasn’t wearing his cape. He’d replaced it with a black leather jacket that I’d kill to have. He gave a curt nod to us, turned, and walked away.

“No attention span,” Diesel said.

“I’m going back to my car. Let me know if something exciting happens.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


Lula was awake and sitting up when I returned. I approached the car and Oswald stepped out from behind a van. My attention immediately went to the remote controller he held in his hand.

“Guess what I’ve got,” he said, waving the controller. “This is real-life gaming. I’ve got your friend wearing enough explosives to take down this whole block. Yes, but then you’ll kill yourself, you’re thinking.” He shook his head. “You would be thinking wrong. I can explode one charge at a time with this device. For instance, I could just take off one gigantic breast. Or I could turn half of her into bloody mush. The technological advances that have been made in detonation are amazing.

“Fortunately for me, fate stepped in, and some misguided thugs blew up your car last night, allowing me to complete my transaction. Ordinarily I would have had plenty of explosives, but I’ve had so many good opportunities to use my stash lately that I had to purchase more.”

“My understanding is that you lost your car as well.”

“Yes. That was a shame. I liked that car.”

I think I was putting up a pretty good show of staying calm, but inside I was a mess. My heart was pounding and my stomach was sick.

“Get behind the wheel,” Oswald said, pulling a gun out of his pocket. “We’re going for a short ride.”

He took me to the end of the block, across South Broad, and down two more blocks. I pulled into an unsecured underground garage and parked next to Oswald’s recently purchased Porsche. The garage was mostly empty. Some junker cars and several pickups were scattered around. Light was dim.

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s a condo building that’s just been bought and is due for a full building renovation. It’s empty except for me and a couple vagrants. Both of you get out and go straight to the stairs.”

“I can’t do stairs on account of you shot me,” Lula said. “And you got my hands in twisty-tie handcuffs so I can’t even pull myself along.”

“You will do stairs, or I will blow you up in the garage,” Oswald said.

“What about the elevator?” Lula asked.

“The elevators don’t work,” Oswald said. “This building is scheduled to be gutted in two weeks.”

“Ow,” Lula said, getting out of the car. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“Here’s the deal,” Oswald said to Lula. “I’d rather not leave you here where someone might find you. And I’m not carrying you up four flights of stairs. So, either you stop saying ow and walk up the stairs or else I’ll encourage you to cooperate by shooting off your fingers one at a time.”

“That would be a mean thing to do,” Lula said.

“I like doing mean things,” Oswald said. “I get off on it.” He looked at me. “I know you carry a pair of cuffs on you. Get them out and put them on.”

I took the cuffs out of my back jeans pocket, cuffed myself, and held my hands out so he could see. Lula hobbled to the stairs and took them one at a time. She got to the first floor and stopped.

“You got any drugs on you?” she asked Oswald. “I could use some drugs. I took all my pain meds ahead of time.”

“Keep climbing,” Oswald said.

Lula got to the second floor and stopped again.

“I got to catch my breath,” she said. “I’m worn out from you shooting me. I barely made it out of the hospital.”

“I shot you in the leg,” Oswald said. “You probably didn’t even bleed with all that fat. I meant to shoot you in something vital, but I was in a hurry.”

“What do you mean all that fat? I happen to be solid muscle except for my titties. I was toned perfection before you shot me.”

I couldn’t tell if Lula was serious or stalling. Either way it was working to my advantage. Ranger would be able to trace my car. And then it hit me. I bought the car this morning. Ranger wouldn’t have had time to put a tracker on it.

“Move!” Oswald said to Lula.

“I can’t go any further,” Lula said. “My leg is burning like fire.”

Oswald drew his sidearm. “I’m not going to bother with you,” he said to Lula. “I’m going to start removing fingers from your friend here.”

Lula limped up the stairs, grunting and saying the occasional ow.