Fearless Fourteen (Stephanie Plum 14)

I hiked my bag onto my shoulder. “I'm just driving him home. That was the deal.”

“There might be some gray area in the deal,” Lula said. “You might've said you'd take care of him. And anyways, you can't dump him in an empty house. You get child services after you for doin' that.”

“Well, what the heck am I supposed to do with him?”

Lula and Connie did I don't know shoulder shrugs.

“Maybe I can sign for Loretta's bond,” I said to Connie.

“I don't think that'll fly,” Connie said. “You're the only person I know who has fewer assets than Loretta.”

“Great.” I huffed out of the office and rammed myself into my latest RO.S. car. It was a Nissan Sentra that used to be silver but was now mostly rust. It had doughnut-size wheels, a Jaguar hood ornament, and a bobble-head Tony Stewart doll in the back window. I like Tony Stewart a lot, but seeing his head jiggling around in my rearview mirror doesn't do much for me.

Unfortunately, he was stuck on with Crazy Glue and nothing short of dismantling the car was going to get him out of my life.

Loretta had given me a photo of Mario and a pickup location. I cruised to a spot where a group of kids were shuffling around, looking for their rides.

Easy to spot Mario. He resembled Morelli when Morelli was his age. Wavy black hair and slim build. Some facial similarities, although Morelli has always been movie star handsome and Mario was a little short of movie star. Of course, I might have been distracted by the multiple silver rings piercing his eyebrows, ears, and nose. He was wearing black-and-white Converse sneakers, stovepipe jeans with a chain belt, a black T-shirt with Japanese characters, and a black denim jacket.

Morelli had been an early bloomer. He grew up fast and hard. His dad was a mean drunk, and Morelli got good with his hands as a kid. He could use them in a fight, and he could use them to coax girls out of their clothes. The first time Morelli and I played doctor, I was five years old, and he was seven. He's periodically repeated the performance, and lately we seem to be a couple. He's a cop now, and against all odds, he's mostly lost the anger he had growing up.

He inherited a nice little house from his Aunt Rose and has become domestic enough to own a dog and a toaster. He hasn't as yet reached the crockpot, toilet seat down, live plant in the kitchen level of domesticity.

Mario looked like a late bloomer. He was short for his age and had “desperate geek” written all over him.

I got out of my car and walked to the group of kids. “Mario Rizzi?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I do,” I said. “Your mother can't pick you up today. I promised her I'd bring you home.”

This produced some moronic comments and snickers from Mario's idiot friends.

“The name is Zook,” Mario said to me. “I don't answer to Mario.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbed Zook by the strap on his backpack, and towed him to my car.

“This is a piece of shit,” he said, hands dangling at his sides, taking the car in.

“And?”

He shrugged and wrenched the door open. “Just saying.”

I drove the short distance to the bonds office and pulled to the curb.

“What's this?” he asked.

“Your mother's been returned to lockup because she failed to show for her court appearance. She can't make her bail, and I can't take you home to an empty house, so I'm parking you in the bonds office until I can find a better place for you.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? No isn't an option.”

“I'm not getting out of the car.”

“I'm a bounty hunter. I could rough you up or shoot you or something if you don't get out of the car.”

“I don't think so. I'm just a kid. Juvie would be all over your ass. And your eye is twitching.”