Hardcore Twenty-Four (Stephanie Plum #24)(25)

“Are you asleep?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Any chance you’ll wake up?”

“Not any time soon.”

His hand strayed toward my breast. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

I rolled over onto my stomach. “You’ll be the first to know. And don’t even think about what you’re thinking about.”

I was doing my best to sound authoritative and off-limits, but I was thinking he felt good next to me. And then I was thinking that was horrible and wrong. And that was followed by the possibility that I might not care if it was wrong. And then I realized he’d fallen asleep.

Men! Ugh.





ELEVEN


I WOKE UP in a vicious mood. Ignoring my black eye, I stomped off to the bathroom, took a shower, pulled my hair into a ponytail, swiped on some mascara, got dressed in my usual uniform, and stomped back to the bed where Diesel was sleeping.

“Hey!” I yelled.

“What?” Diesel asked without opening his eyes.

“I’m leaving.”

“Are you naked?”

“No.”

“Did you make breakfast for me?”

“No.”

Silence. Even breathing. Eyes closed.

“Hey!” I yelled again. “Are you sleeping?”

He opened his eyes. “Not anymore. And the ‘Hey’ thing is getting old.”

“Just checking.”

“You have a mean streak,” Diesel said. “You ever think about meditation? Chamomile tea?”

“You ever think about leaving?”

“Not in the last ten minutes.”

I was doomed. If he stayed long enough, my hormones would eventually disconnect my brain, and I’d be on him like white on rice. Bad enough I was in jeopardy of having an arrangement with Ranger, I now had Mr. Big, Hot, and Blond tempting me toward total slutdom.

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “I’m in a relationship and . . .”

His eyes were closed again. Damn! He was asleep.

I blew out a sigh and took one last look. He was beyond annoying when he was awake, and deliciously adorable when he was asleep.

? ? ?

I called Morelli on my way to the office and got his voicemail. “Just checking in,” I told him. “Hope everything’s good.”

That got a grimace out of me. How good could it be? The man was collecting heads without brains.

I stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts and got coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a dozen donuts. Probably overkill, but I was looking to seriously increase my endorphin production.

Connie looked up when I walked in. I dumped my messenger bag on the couch, set the box of donuts on her desk, and tucked into the breakfast sandwich.

“What’s new?” I asked.

“Vinnie phoned in and was on a rant about Zero Slick. Apparently, you made national news. Vinnie said he was watching television, and he saw Slick hit you with a sign. He wants to know why you didn’t bring him in.”

I pointed to my eye, which was now a dark green with touches of navy and magenta. “Hit and run. By the time my head cleared Slick was gone. Where is Vinnie?”

“He’s at a conference in Atlanta.”

Lula shuffled into the office. She looked like someone set off a bomb in her head and her hair exploded. She was wearing red sneakers, gray sweatpants, and a pink T-shirt with a coffee stain down the front of it.

“God bless someone, on account of I see a box of donuts on the desk,” Lula said. “Tell me there’s still donuts left in that box.”

“Tough night?” Connie asked.

“The worst. Dogs barking and cats howling. Then there was people yelling at the dogs and cats to shut up. Then there were sirens and flashy lights in my window. Not that any of this is unusual in my neighborhood. I’ve grown skills that help me to ignore these distractions. It’s that none of my skills helped last night. I finally gave up trying to sleep somewhere around five in the morning. I got dressed and went out to see what the fuss was about. I thought maybe I would take a jog around the block. I’ve been planning on taking up exercise.”

Lula crammed a donut into her mouth and selected a second. “Healthy body, healthy mind. That’s what I’m all about. Who picked these donuts out? There’s only two of them Boston Kreme. I mean, I’m in a donut emergency. I need at least four Boston Kremes. And I need coffee.”

“Looks like you already had coffee,” Connie said.

Lula looked down at herself. “This isn’t my coffee. I was out in front of my house, and I was thinking about going for a walk or a run or something, and I bumped into a cop. The place was crawling with them. This is his coffee.”

“What was the problem?” I asked. “Why were the police there?”

“I don’t know,” Lula said. “After I got the coffee spilled on me I went back inside and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up a couple hours later and there were still dogs barking and cop cars with their stupid radios squawking, so I came here to get some quiet.” She ate two more donuts and went to the coffee machine at the back of the room. “I should move out of that neighborhood, but I like my apartment. It’s got a big closet.” She returned with coffee and ate another donut.