Explosive Eighteen (Stephanie Plum 18)

“I’ll hold my breath,” Buggy said.

I cranked the engine over and looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Fine by me. I don’t care if you turn blue and die.”

“I always pee my pants when I hold my breath,” Buggy said.

“That’s endearin’,” Lula said. “I bet Shrek pees his pants, too.”

I cut my eyes to Lula. “He’s going to have to get out and ride in the back.”

“Sweetums, you want to ride in the back?” Lula asked.

“No. I want to drive.”

Lula rooted through her purse and found a Snickers bar. She got out of the truck and threw the Snickers bar into the back. “Go fetch,” she said.

Buggy rolled out of the cab, ran around, climbed over the tailgate, and I stepped on the gas just as he wrapped his hand around the Snickers.

I took Broad to Hamilton, turned onto Pulling, and stopped in front of the Bugkowski house. I stuck my head out my window and yelled at Buggy. “You’re home. You can get out now.”

“Nuh-ah,” Buggy said.

“Isn’t that special,” Lula said. “He doesn’t want to leave me. We bonded real good.”

“And now you’re going to have to unbond because we need to bring Joyce in.”

“It’s just so sad to have to leave him,” Lula said.

She pulled another Snickers bar out of her purse and threw it out the window onto the Bugkowski front lawn. Buggy bounded out of the truck bed, snatched up the Snickers, and I put my foot to the floor. Adios, muchacho.

• • •

Joyce was still watching television when we walked in.

“You’re late,” she said. “I’m starving. Where’s my chicken salad? Where’s my wine?”

“It’s in the fridge,” I said. “Help yourself.”

“Are you sure this is Joyce?” Lula said. “She don’t look like tramp. She look more like bag lady.”

“Get out of my way, fatso,” Joyce said to Lula, brushing her aside to get to the fridge.

Lula glared at her. “Say what?”

Joyce opened the fridge door and I stepped behind her. Zzzzzzzt. Joyce crashed to the floor.

“You don’t mind if I kick her, do you?” Lula said.

“Yes, I mind. I don’t want to deliver her with unexplainable bruises.”

I was about to cuff Joyce, and Connie called.

“I don’t know if this is good news or bad news,” Connie said, “but the charges have been dropped against Joyce. The court’s returning the bond.”

“I just stun-gunned her.”

“Good for you,” Connie said.

I disconnected the phone and passed the message on to Lula.