Diesel did a full-?on smile. “I don‘t have to look at you to know when you‘re rolling your eyes. You roll your eyes every time I act like a jerk.”
Stephanie Plum 14.5 - Plum Spooky
EIGHT
IT WAS A dark, moonless night, and we were lost in shadow when Diesel parked the Escalade in the small lot behind the bail bonds office.
“I‘ll wait here,” I told him. “This could take some time. You‘ll be more comfortable inside.”
“Are you going to be a jerk again and make me come in?”
“No. Are you going to drive off without me?”
I hadn‘t intended to, but it wasn‘t a bad idea now that he‘d planted the seed.
“Well?” he asked.
“I‘m trying to decide.”
He pulled the key out of the ignition and pocketed it. “Lock yourself in and lean on the horn if someone tries to steal you.”
I watched him go to the back door and open it as if it hadn‘t been locked. He just put his hand to the doorknob and opened the door. No alarm sounded. The door closed behind Diesel, and I settled in. An hour ticked by, and the police didn‘t show. No Rangeman goons arrived in SWAT gear. I reclined my seat and closed my eyes.
I WAS SUFFOCATING. I was struggling to come out of a deep sleep, and I was desperate for air. I forced my eyes open and saw the problem. I was in bed, and Diesel had his arm draped across my chest again. Diesel was a big guy with a lot of muscle, and his arm weighed a ton. I thought back to the night before and vaguely remembered falling asleep in the car, and next thing, Diesel was shuffling me into my building and into the elevator. After that, it was fuzzy. I checked around and discovered I was wearing pan -ties and Diesel‘s T-?shirt. That was it. Diesel was wearing less.
I squirmed around, trying to slide away from Diesel, but he tightened his grip and drew me closer.
“Hey,” I said. “Hey!”
He half opened his eyes and looked at me. “What?”
“You‘ve got me in a death grip. I can‘t breathe. And what‘s with my clothes? I‘m wearing your T-?shirt.”
“Yeah, I didn‘t know what to put on you. You looked uncomfortable sleeping in your jeans and sweater and stuff.”
“Did you undress me?”
His eyes slid closed.
“Wake up,” I yelled at him.
“Now what?” he said.
“I don‘t remember a lot about last night. We didn‘t… I mean, you didn‘t…”
“Honey, being intimate with me is not a forgettable experience.”
“I guess that‘s good to know.”
“Yeah, file it for future reference. What time is it?”
“It‘s almost eight o‘clock.”
Diesel sighed and rolled away from me. “I hate mornings. They start so early.”
I left the bed and gathered my clothes up from the floor. “Did you get anything useful last night at the bonds office?”
“I printed out a copy of Munch‘s doctoral thesis, but didn‘t get a chance to read it. I‘m hoping it‘ll tell me something about the theft at the research center. I‘d like to know why he took the magnetometer. Nothing else local turned up on Munch. It‘s like he has no life. Scanlon shows some promise. His sister, Roberta Scanlon, has a house in north Philadelphia. He had a second sister, Gail, but she‘s like smoke. Eugene Scanlon was also heavily in debt. He defaulted on a car loan and had two credit cards in collection. His research isn‘t published, but he was Munch‘s project supervisor, so they had to be working in similar areas.”