Hot Six (Stephanie Plum 6)

“You men are all alike,” my grandmother said. “Only thinking about one thing.”

“What's that?” Myron asked.

Grandma scrinched her mouth up. “If I have to tell you, then there's no sense going in for a nightcap.”

Morelli walked Grandma and me to my apartment. He let Grandma in, then pulled me aside. “You could come home with me,” he said.

It was very tempting. And not for any of the reasons Morelli would hope for. I was dead on my feet. And Morelli didn't snore. I might actually be able to sleep at his house. I hadn't slept through the night in so long, I couldn't remember what it was like.

He brushed a kiss across my lips. “Grandma wouldn't mind. She's got Bob.”

Eight hours, I thought. All I wanted was eight hours of sleep, and I'd be good as new.

His hands slid under my sweater. “It would be a night to remember.”

It would be a night without a drooling, knife-wielding pyromaniac. “It would be heaven,” I said, not even realizing I was talking out loud.

He was so close I could feel every part of him, pressed against me. And one of those parts was growing. Ordinarily this would have triggered a corresponding reaction in my body. But tonight my thoughts were that this was something I could do without. Still, if it was the price I had to pay for a decent night's sleep, then let's get to it.

“Let me just scoot inside and grab a few things,” I told Morelli, imagining myself all cozy in his bed, in a toasty flannel nightshirt. “And I have to tell Grandma.”

“You aren't going to go inside and close and lock the door and leave me out here, are you?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don't know. I just have this feeling . . .”

“You should come in here,” Grandma called out. “There's a show on the television, and it's all about alligators.” She cocked her head. “What's that strange sound? It sounds like a cricket.”

“Shit,” Morelli said.

Morelli and I knew what the sound was. It was his pager. Morelli was trying hard to ignore it.

I was the one to cave first. “You have to look at it sooner or later,” I said.

“I don't have to look at it,” he said. “I know what it is, and it isn't going to be good.” He checked the readout, grimaced, and headed for the phone in the kitchen. When he came back, holding a paper towel with an address scribbled, I gave him an expectant look.

“I have to go,” he said. “But I'll be back.”

“When? When will you be back?”

“Wednesday at the latest.”

I rolled my eyes. Cop humor.

He gave me a fast kiss, and he was gone.

I pressed the redial button on my phone. A woman answered, and I recognized the voice. Terry Gilman.

“Look at this,” Grandma said. “The alligator ate a cow. You don't see that every day.”

I took a seat beside her. Fortunately, there wasn't any more cow eating. Although now that I knew Joe was on his way to meet Terry Gilman, death and destruction held some appeal. The fact that this was undoubtedly a business meeting took some of the fun out of getting nuts over it. Still, I could probably have worked myself up into a pretty good frenzy if I just hadn't been so darn tired.

When the alligator show was done, we watched the Shopping Network for a while.

“I'm going to turn in,” Grandma finally said. “Gotta get my beauty rest.”

The second she left the room I hauled out my pillow and quilt, killed the lights, and flopped onto the couch. I was asleep in an instant, my sleep deep and dreamless. And short-lived. I was dragged awake by Grandma's snoring. I got up to close her door, but it was already closed. I sighed, half in self-pity and half in amazement that she could sleep with all that noise. You'd think she'd wake herself up. Bob didn't seem to notice. He was asleep on the floor at one end of the couch, sprawled on his side.