"Yeah," Ramona said, sighing. "But he had a nice mother with a pocketful of cash. She cried. You know how I can't stand it when they cry."
Wolfe sighed. "Okay. The cops will be looking for him hot and heavy. Whenever they find out where he's holed up, it'll probably take SWAT to pull him out." He handed her back the file. "Let's let it ride for a while. If we're closing in on ninety days and the cops still haven't pulled him in, I'll see what I can do."
"Oh, for God's sake," Slade muttered, pulling the file out of Ramona's hand and then glaring at Wolfe. "You know, for a guy who's supposed to be so damned tough you sure do wimp out on the hard stuff."
Wendy had never been a fan of bloodshed, and she was sure she was getting ready to witness some now. But Wolfe merely looked through a few more files with Ramona, taking one more and sticking it under his arm. Wendy was dumbfounded. Why wasn't Wolfe shutting the man's mouth once and for all?
Slade walked back over to Wendy's desk, leaned against it and opened the file he'd taken from Ramona. He extracted a mug shot and flashed it in front of Wendy. "There he is, baby. That's the face of a kidnapper. Scary, huh?"
The guy in the picture had a weak chin, approximately three hairs left on his head, and horn-rimmed glasses. He looked like a depressed IRS agent. The only reason she'd be scared of that face was if she'd cheated on her income taxes.
"Yeah," Slade said, "it's dangerous work, but I'm bringing him in. And as soon as Rico is behind bars again, why don't you and I go out and celebrate?"
For the first time since he'd walked through the door, Wolfe turned slowly and stared at Slade, his eyes narrowing into slits, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.
"Wendy," he said.
She gave him a pleasant smile. "Yes, Wolfe?"
"Don't worry about dinner tonight. I'll pick up a pizza on the way home."
"Sounds good."
"Pepperoni okay?"
"Perfect."
Wolfe picked up the files Ramona had given him and headed for the door. He gave Lonnie and Ralph a nod, then left the office, the door clicking shut behind him.
Slade stared after him, his jaw practically dragging the ground. He turned to Wendy. "So he's your plans tonight? Wolfe? You're dating him?"
"No. Not exactly."
"Well, thank God."
"I'm living with him."
Slade's expression was so flabbergasted that Wendy almost laughed out loud.
"You're kidding," he said.
"Kidding? Why would you think that?"
"Oh, come on!" Slade laughed a little. "A woman like you? A man like him? Where in nature does that happen?" He shook his head. "Sorry. That just doesn't add up."
She smiled sweetly. "Then maybe you need to change the battery in your calculator."
Slade gave her a frozen look of surprise, as if he had to wait a moment for that to compute. Then he stuck the mug shot back into the file and slapped it shut. "Tell you what, baby. As soon as you get tired of sitting in King Kong's palm, let me know. I'll show you a really good time."
Slade had a few more words with Ramona, then sauntered out the door. "Damn it," Ralph muttered, smacking his fist against the desk. "I thought for sure today was the day!"
"Nope," Lonnie said. "Not gonna happen."
"But Wendy's here, so the little bastard had somebody to show off for. And then Wolfe showed up, Rico was up for grabs…" Ralph sighed. "All the ingredients were there."
Lonnie shook his head slowly. "I told you. Not gonna happen."
"But every man has his breaking point," Ralph said. "You watch. Someday Slade's gonna open his mouth one too many times, and bam! Wolfe's gonna knock him clean into next week." He sat back, a wistful expression on his face. "Man, I just hope I'm around to see it."
Wendy looked at Ramona questioningly.
"They've got a bet going," Ramona told her. "Ralph is banking on the fact that someday Wolfe is going to snap and Slade will be eating dirt. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind seeing that myself."
"So you don't think much of Slade," Wendy said.
"Nope."
"If you don't like him, why don't you tell him to get lost?"
"Because every once in a while he brings somebody in. He does it recklessly, and sooner or later he's going to get his head blown off, but that's his problem. If he brings in a bail jumper, I pay him. If he's bleeding in the street because he was a careless idiot, I don't pay him. Simple as that."
"Is Rico really dangerous?"
"Yes."
"And Slade's going to bring him in?"
"He'll probably give it a shot. But I'm certainly not counting on it."
"But he said—"
"He said all kinds of things to impress you. Making money is fine, but Slade's number-one goal is to convince women how cool he is. Wolfe's goal is to get the bad guys off the street. And just for the record, Slade was full of crap about Rudy Pagliani. He was a bad one. The cops struck out, so Wolfe tracked him down and brought him in."
"So if the time comes with Rico, and Slade has struck out—"
"Then Wolfe will haul him in for me."
"You sound absolutely certain of that."
"His track record speaks for itself. Slade is hit-and-miss, and eventually he'll get himself into trouble. Wolfe works smart and gets results. In the end, which man do you think I depend on?"
Wendy had already suspected there was a lot more to Wolfe than met the eye, but now she was sure of it. All at once she felt a newfound admiration for him and an enhanced contempt for Slade.
"But I still don't understand," Wendy said. "Wolfe could flatten Slade in a heartbeat. So why does he take all that crap from him?"
"Get to know him a little better and you'll know why," Ramona said. "You'll know."
* * *
Wendy came through the door that evening to find Wolfe crashed out on the sofa reading. His bookshelves contained everything from classics to horror fiction to police procedurals to coffee-table volumes of twentieth-century architecture. She didn't know if he actually read all that stuff or not, but he was obviously engrossed in the mystery novel he was reading right now.
"You read a lot, don't you?" she asked him as she closed the door and locked it behind her.
"Passes the time."
She glanced up at the industrial fluorescent fixtures overhead that cast such a garish glow around the apartment. How he could read in this light, she'd never know.
"This light has got to be bad for your eyes," she told him. "Ever thought about getting a lamp or two?"
"Nope." He turned down a page of the book, then sat up and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Pizza's in the kitchen."
"Good. I'm starving."
Wolfe rose from the sofa, moving, as he always did, with a rough-around-the-edges kind of grace that mesmerized her.
"Any problems with the Chevy?" he asked, removing the pizza box from the oven.
"No. Why?"
"Transmission needs an overhaul, but it should be good for a little while longer."
"So does this mean I can drive it tomorrow, too?"
He opened the box. "How else will you get to work?"
Wendy smiled to herself, feeling those warm fuzzies stirring all over again.
"Oh," Wolfe said. "I almost forgot. Your mother phoned this afternoon and left a message. She said your sister told her what happened, but she just wanted to make sure you're all right."
"Yeah, I figured she'd call. I'll talk to her later." She paused. "Uh … how long should I tell her I'll be here?"
"How long do you think it'll take you to get the money you need?"
"I don't know," she said tentatively. "Maybe as long as a few months." She held her breath, waiting for his response.
"Just tell her she can get in touch with you here for the time being," Wolfe said.
Okay. He wasn't exactly saying she could stay forever, but he didn't freak out when she said a few months, either. That was a good thing.
She grabbed plates and
forks and they sat down at the table. The smoky smell from last night had almost faded away, replaced by the aroma of a really nice deep-dish pepperoni pizza. Wendy lifted a piece, trailing a mile of stringy cheese behind it. She twisted her finger around it, then deposited the cheesy lump on top of the pizza.
"So did you have a nice day?" Wendy asked.
"Nice?"
"Yeah. You know. Did good things happen?"
Wolfe shrugged. "It was about like most."
"You have a pretty exciting job."
"Yeah. Exciting. Searching for addresses. Looking through public records. Calling every relative, friend or enemy a guy's ever had, trying to track him down. Looking for somebody with a vendetta who can't wait to blow the whistle on him. Chasing a dozen dead ends. Yeah, it's exciting, all right."
"I wouldn't exactly call my new job exciting, either," Wendy said, "but it wasn't bad at all. I like Ramona a lot."
"Yeah. She's a good person."
"She likes you, too."
"We go way back."
"Do you work for other bondsmen, too, or just Ramona?"
"I work for others, too. Whoever's got work at the time. But I always make sure Ramona's covered."
"How did she come to own a bail bond agency? I mean, I'm all for woman power, but it's still kind of unusual."
"She inherited it when her father died."
"Oh, yeah? How long ago was that?"
"Eleven years. She took it over when she was twenty-three."
Wendy blinked with surprise. "You're kidding."
"Nope. It was shaky there for a while, but she managed to hang on. Now she has a thriving business."
"How about Ralph and Lonnie? How long have they been there?"
"They worked for Ramona's father."
"How did they feel about a twenty-three-year-old girl taking over the business?"
"Not too good. But it wasn't long before they had to admit she could handle it. Now there isn't anything the two of them wouldn't do for her."
"Tell me about Slade," Wendy said.
Wolfe froze, the piece of pizza he held hovering in midair. "You need to stay away from him."
"Oh? Stay away from him? Why is that?"
"Because he's not the kind of guy you want to have anything to do with."
"Really?" she said innocently. "He's very handsome, you know."
Wolfe dropped the pizza back to his plate. "So that's all you look for in a man? A pretty face?"
"Well, of course not. But he is impressive in other ways. With those dangerous fugitives he goes after, and all."
Wolfe's eyes narrowed. "He's a risk taker who doesn't even belong in the profession. He's also a jerk who treats women like crap. He always has been, and he always will be."
She blinked with feigned surprise. "Really?"
"Damn it, Wendy! Are you that blind? Can't you see what kind of guy he is?"
Wendy nodded thoughtfully. "Actually, the moment I met him, I knew exactly what kind of guy he was. See, he made me think about a camping trip I went on once."
"What?"
"I was walking through some tall grass, and a snake slithered across my shoe. It was a very pretty snake, but a snake just the same."
Wolfe's expression went blank for a moment, and then annoyance seeped back in. "That's exactly right," he said sharply, yanking up his pizza again. "He's a snake. That's why you need to stay away from him."
He took a grinding bite of the pizza as if to say Case closed, and Wendy had to suppress a smile. As if she hadn't already figured Slade out five seconds after meeting him.
She rested her chin on her hand and smiled at Wolfe. "Thank you."
Wolfe paused midchew. "For what?"
"For looking out for me."
He actually looked a little flustered for a moment, then reverted to his annoyed expression. "God knows somebody has to," he muttered, then chomped into his slice again.
Wendy certainly hadn't expected this. When Wolfe was in the office today, he hadn't acknowledged that Slade even existed, but he sure was acknowledging him now.
Wait a minute. Yes, he had. The minute Wolfe had heard Slade talking about taking her out to dinner, he'd interrupted to tell her what was on the menu at his apartment that night.
As Wendy turned that thought over in her mind, she felt little tingles of delight. The subtext was suddenly so clear that she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before: Back off buddy. She's with me.
Maybe Wolfe was doing more than just tolerating her after all.
"Just for the record," Wendy said, "I don't find guys like Slade the least bit attractive." She paused. "Well, maybe if I saw his picture in a magazine or something, I might say wow. But the minute he opens his mouth…" She crinkled her nose with disgust. "All that conceit is compensating for something. I just don't know what. Any ideas?"
Wolfe shrugged. "Got me."
"Hmm." Wendy tapped her finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Small penis, maybe?"
Wolfe's eyes snapped up to meet hers, and for the first time since he'd picked her up on that icy street two nights ago, his mouth quirked into a smile. Then it grew broader. Finally it became a full-fledged grin, and Wendy couldn't believe how the sight of it made her feel—as if the clouds had parted and rays of sunshine were streaking down to earth.
"You're smiling," she said. "Are you sure you want to waste all that energy?"
"Sorry," he said, still grinning. "But I just got a visual on that. Can't help it."
"You mean you think it's funny that Slade has a tragically teeny weenie?"
Wolfe tried to bury his smile by covering his mouth with his hand, but still she could see it hanging on. Then he actually laughed a little, and the subsequent grin lit up his whole face, adding friendly little crinkles around his eyes and mouth. And it positively entranced her.
"You need to do that more often," she told him.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Smile."
He stared at her, his broad smile slowly fading to a softer one, and Wendy thought her heart was going to leap right out of her chest. Finally he looked away, rubbing his hand over his jaw.
"What's the matter?" Wendy asked. "Pull a muscle?"
He shot her a look of mock disgust.
"Don't worry," she told him. "It gets easier with more workouts. No pain, no gain, right?"
Wolfe let out a weary sigh. "You never let up, do you?"
"Nope. We'll have another session tomorrow. Maybe Slade will come into the office and give me some more training material."
That drew another smile from Wolfe, and Wendy just about melted into her chair. At that moment she knew that any further warnings she gave herself about not falling for this man would be pointless.
She had already taken the plunge.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
The next morning Wolfe left the apartment before Wendy woke, a full day ahead of him. And that day got progressively more irritating, frustrating and exasperating as the hours passed.
By the time he returned to the warehouse that evening, it was nearly seven o'clock, and he'd had it. He tried to remember if he'd had a worse day in the past ten years.
The answer was no.
The morning had begun in fine form. He'd apprehended a teenage burglar who hadn't bothered to show up to court, and when Wolfe was handcuffing the kid he'd been so scared that he'd wet his pants. Then Wolfe had found out that a cocaine dealer he'd been tracking for the past week had hopped a flight out of the country, never to be seen again. And then there was the woman he'd picked up who'd been charged with assault and battery, but hadn't made going to court a priority. She was damned near as big as he was, with a set of lungs to match. She'd shouted a nonstop string of curses all the way to jail and then kicked him in the shin as he was getting her out of the car. Twice.
It had been one hell of a day, all right. But for the first time in a long time, he'd seen a light at the end of the tunnel.
; He was going home to Wendy.
When he'd agreed to let her stay, he'd been absolutely certain she would turn his life upside down. And she had. But it had nothing to do with her disturbing his solitude, hogging the bathroom, sitting on his end of the sofa or, God forbid, trying to cook again. It had everything to do with the fact that suddenly there was a beautiful woman moving around his apartment who smiled and laughed and drew him into more conversations than he'd had in the past five years, who filled up the empty spaces around him that he hadn't even realized existed. Ten minutes hadn't gone by all day when he wasn't thinking about her, and he knew just how dangerous that was. He'd spent his entire adult life perfecting the art of playing solitaire, and in just a few days she was already making him forget how to be alone.
This isn't forever. She'll be gone soon. Don't you ever forget that.
When he swung his SUV into its parking place he saw the Chevy there, which meant Wendy was already upstairs. She'd called him on his cell phone a few hours ago to tell him that she'd found a coupon for a fast-food chicken place in the newspaper so she'd pick up dinner for them on the way home.
Dinner waiting. That felt good.
Wendy waiting. That felt even better.
He went up the elevator and into his apartment, breathing a sigh of relief at finally being home. Then he looked into the living room, and he was stunned at what he saw.
Wendy was curled up on one end of the sofa, Weenie on the other. Neither of those things were unusual, except that his sofa now sat on a rug—a big fluffy beige-and-green rug. And there was a floor lamp beside the end of the sofa where he always sat to read.
"Well?" she asked. "Do you like it?"
He just stood there, staring at the incongruous sight: the soaring loft ceiling and cold brick walls juxtaposed with the pleasant glow that the lamp cast over the whole space, highlighting the softness of the rug, the relaxation of the cat and the warmth of the smile on Wendy's face.
"Here," she said. "Try it out."
She jumped up from the sofa, pulled off his coat, then took his hand and sat him down on the end of the sofa nearest the lamp. She put a newspaper in his hand.
"Go ahead. Read a little. You'll see how much nicer it is now than with those awful fluorescent lights."
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