Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8)

“Vinnie doesn't want him, either,” Connie said.

“It isn't that,” Vinnie yelled from his inner office. “I've got things to do. Important things.”

“Yeah,” Lula said, “he's gotta slap his johnson around.”

“You better get that guy,” Vinnie yelled at me. “I'm not going to be happy if I'm out Bender's bond.”

“I think there's something going on with Bender,” Lula said. “He's one of them lucky drunks. It's like he's got a direct line to God. God protects the weak and the helpless, you know.”

“God isn't protecting Bender,” Vinnie yelled. “Bender is still out there because I have a couple of useless boobs on my payroll.”

“Okay, fine,” I said. “We'll go get Bender.”

“We?” Lula asked.

“Yeah, you and me.”

“Been there, done that,” Lula said. “I'm telling you, he's under God's protection. And I'm not sticking my nose into God's business.”

“I'll buy you lunch.”

“I'll get my bag,” Lula said.

“One thing,” I said to Connie. “I need some cuffs.”

“No more cuffs,” Vinnie yelled. “What do you think, cuffs grow on trees?”

“I can't bring him in without cuffs.”

“Improvise.”

“Hey,” Lula said, looking out the big plate glass front window, “check out the car that just stopped by Stephanie's car. It's got a big rabbit and a big bear in it. And the bear is driving.”

We all stared out the window.

“Uh-oh,” Lula said, “did that rabbit just throw something at Stephanie's car?”

There was a loud barooooorn, the CR-V jumped several feet into the air and burst into flames.

“Guess it was a bomb,” Lula said.

Vinnie came running out of his office. “Holy shit,” he said. “What was that?” He stopped and gaped at the fireball in front of his office.

“It's just another one of Stephanie's cars got blown up,” Lula said. “It got bombed by a big rabbit.”

“Don't you hate when that happens,” Vinnie said. And he went back into his office.

Lula and Connie and I migrated out to the sidewalk and watched the car burn. A couple blue-and-whites screamed onto the scene, followed by the EMT truck and finally two fire trucks.

Carl Costanza got out of one of the blue-and-whites. “Anyone hurt?”

“No.”

“Good,” he said, his face creasing into a grin. “Then I can enjoy this. I missed the spiders and the guy on the couch.”

Costanza's partner, Big Dog, ambled over. “Way to go, Steph,” he said. “We were all wondering when you'd trash another car. Can't hardly remember the last explosion.”

Costanza bobbed his head in agreement. “It's been months,” he said.