Hardcore Twenty-Four Read Online Free PDF Page B

of the cross. Next stop would be a trip to the liquor cabinet over the sink.
    â€œDid you send him a picture of you?” I asked Grandma.
    â€œSort of,” Grandma said. “I didn’t have a real good picture, so I sent him one of your mother. We look alike except for the hair, and I’m thinking about going brown anyway.”
    My mother sucked in some air and her eyes went wide. “You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t!”
    â€œIt was a nice picture,” Grandma said. “It was the one where you’re on the beach at Seaside.”
    My mother did the sign of the cross again. “Holy Mother,” she said.
    I had a second helping of macaroni, finished my sandwich, ate a bunch of Italian cookies, and pushed my chair back from the table.
    â€œGotta go,” I said. “Things to do.”
    â€œAre you hunting down bad guys?” Grandma asked.
    â€œEventually.”
    I gave hugs to Grandma and my mom, thanked them for lunch, and escaped to my car. I stopped at the supermarket on the way home and got a couple more packages of hot dogs for Ethel, Pop-Tarts for my hamster Rex and me, bread, cereal, bananas, and assorted frozen dinner–type foods.

FOUR
    IT WAS CLOSE to three o’clock when I lugged my groceries into my apartment building and down the hall to my place. I put the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and yelped. There was a man in my place.
    He was over six feet tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped, and nicely muscled. He was beach-bum tan with thick, unruly blond hair cut short, and dark eyebrows and eyelashes that I would kill to have. He was wearing jeans with a rip in the knee, a T-shirt that advertised tequila, and black-and-white sneaker-type shoes. He was drop-dead handsome with perfect white teeth and a lot of attitude. I know about the attitude because I know the man. His name is Diesel. That’s it. Just Diesel.
    He dropped into my life for the first time several years ago at Christmas, scaring the heck out of me when he suddenly appeared in my kitchen. When I’d asked him how he’d gotteninto my apartment and my life, he said, “Sweetcakes, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Nothing much has changed since then.
    He’s visited a bunch of times since that Christmas, mysteriously coming and going. He doesn’t have a key to my apartment, but that never stops him from getting in.
    â€œSurprise,” Diesel said.
    â€œNow what?” I asked him.
    â€œJust passing through and thought I’d say hello.”
    He took a grocery bag from me, set it on the counter, and emptied it.
    â€œThere are these things called vegetables,” he said. “You ever hear about them?”
    â€œIf I want vegetables I eat at my parents’ house. And I have baby carrots in the fridge.”
    â€œThey’re for your rat.”
    â€œHe’s a
hamster
.”
    Diesel opened the box of Frosted Flakes and took a handful.
    â€œYou never just stop in to say hello,” I said. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in over a year. What’s up?”
    â€œThere’s a disturbance in the force. Thought I’d check it out.”
    â€œThat’s a little vague.”
    Diesel shrugged. “It’s what I do, sweetie pie.”
    â€œRight. You weren’t planning on doing it here, were you? Like in my apartment?”
    â€œI’d rather be under a palm tree somewhere, but yeah, I’m stuck here for a while.”
    â€œNo. You are
not
staying here.”
    â€œSure I am. I always stay here. You’d be heartbroken if I stayed somewhere else.”
    â€œI’d be overjoyed.”
    â€œYou need to work on your hostess skills,” Diesel said. “The whole cranky thing is a major turnoff.”
    â€œMorelli is coming over for dinner tonight. I don’t want you here when he walks in.”
    â€œHoney, that’s hard to believe. No one would come here for dinner. You