I glanced over my shoulder and saw Diesel standing about twenty feet behind me, relaxed, looking amused.

“Walk away,” Wulf said to Diesel.

Diesel shook his head no. His mouth still held the very small smile, but his eyes were hard.

Wulf moved close to me, wrapped his hand around my arm, and I felt a buzz of electricity run from his hand to my fingertips.

“Get in the car,” he said.

“No.”

“I could snap your neck.”

“And I could shove your nuts into your small intestine with my knee.”

This was absolute bravado on my part. It was one thing to sort of accidentally on purpose connect with Hector Mendez. Kneeing Gerwulf Grimoire would be a whole other ball game. He was flat-out scary, and he radiated power. And I was pretty much frozen to the spot. What I knew for sure was that it would be a huge mistake to get into the car. I was guessing women went into his car in a lot better shape than they came out.

“Release her,” Diesel said.

Wulf‘s voice was low and silky. Wind whispering in the trees. “I won‘t tolerate interference in my business. If necessary, I‘ll destroy you and everyone associated with you.”

Diesel‘s posture was relaxed. No fear visible. “I have a job to do. Nothing personal, but I will do it.”

“We‘ll take this up some other day,” Wulf said.

He released my arm and stepped away from me. There was a blast of heat and a flash of fire, and when the smoke cleared, Wulf was gone. The car was still there.

Diesel was hands on hips, looking disgusted. He gave his head a small shake. “Mr. Hollywood.”

“I didn‘t see nothing,” Mendez said, still on the ground. “I don‘t know what just happened, and I didn‘t see it.”

I made a move to the car, and Diesel pulled me back. “You don‘t want to touch Wulf‘s car,” he said. “You never know what might happen.”

I PROCESSED MENDEZ and returned to Diesel. He was parked in the public lot across the street from the court, and he was zoned out behind the wheel. I slid onto the seat next to him and buckled myself in.

“You look deep in thought,” I said to him.

“I should have known Wulf was in the building.”

“Maybe his blood vessels were expanded.”

Diesel grimaced.

“Or maybe he wasn‘t in the building. Maybe we caught him going in. Maybe he‘d just got there,” I said.

“That‘s a happy idea. That would make me feel much better, because the possibility that I might have lost my ability to sense Wulf depresses the crap out of me.”

“How did he disappear in a flash of fire?”

“The fire and smoke is right out of the Magic for Dummies book. Any nine-year-old kid can do it. And it creates a diversion for his exit.” Diesel rolled the engine over. “Now what?”

“Back to the office so I can collect my capture money.” We got to the office in less than ten minutes, due to the fact that every light was green and traffic was non ex is tent.

Diesel parked at the curb and grinned at me.

“That was pure luck,” I said to him. “I don‘t for one instant believe you can control traffic lights.”

“I didn‘t say anything.”

“You grinned.”

“We could make a bet,” Diesel said.

“Can I set the stakes?”

He shook his head. “No. It‘s my ability that‘s called into question. I think it‘s fair that I set the stakes.”

“No way.”

“Afraid you‘ll lose?”

“Not willing to take a chance.”

“This isn‘t doing a lot for my ego,” Diesel said.

“Your ego doesn‘t seem especially fragile.”

“That doesn‘t mean I can‘t be crushed. I‘m only human… sort of.”

I did a mental eye roll and got out of the car. “If you said that to a health care professional, they‘d shoot you full of Thorazine.”

“Hey, look who‘s here,” Connie said, eyeballing Diesel. “Long time, no see.”

Vinnie stuck his head out of his inner office. “Who‘s here?”

There are many members of my family tree who would like to take an axe to Vinnie‘s limb. He‘s a decent judge of people, and that makes him a good bail bondsman. Unfortunately, he‘s also oily, addicted to every vice possible, and sees nothing wrong with being a sexual deviant, so his score as a human being isn‘t all that great.

“It‘s Diesel,” Connie said. “Stephanie‘s friend.”

“So what are you doing here?” Vinnie asked Diesel. “Are you porking her?”

“Not yet,” Diesel said.

“Why aren‘t you working? What do you do?”

“I work for the power company. I‘m the guy who pushes the disconnect button.”

“That sounds like fun,” Vinnie said.

“It has its moments.”

I gave Connie my body receipt. “You‘ll never guess. Purely by accident, I ran into Hector Mendez.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“Nope. He‘s alive and kicking.”

“He‘s alive, but he wasn‘t doing much kicking after Kung Fu Princess here got done with him,” Diesel said.

“Ha!” Vinnie said. “I bet she got him in the ol‘ casabas.”

“Gave my boys the creepy crawlies just looking at it,” Diesel told him.

“Gives my boys the creepy crawlies thinking she‘s wasting her time on Mendez,” Vinnie said. “Mendez is penny-ante. I need to see Munch get his shrimp ass hauled back to the slammer. I don‘t have Munch by the end of the month, and I‘m gonna have to move to South America. I‘m out Munch money, and I‘m in the red. And Harry don‘t like the color red unless it‘s blood.”

“Harry?” Diesel asked.

“Harry the Hammer. His financial backer who also happens to be his father-in-law,” I told him.

Diesel smiled, and Vinnie gave his head a shake, as if even after all these years he still didn‘t believe it.

I took my capture check from Connie and dropped it into my bag. “See you all tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Vinnie said, “and make sure you have Munch‘s body receipt next time you waltz in here.”

Diesel and I left the office, and Diesel beeped the Escalade unlocked. “And you‘re working for him, why?”

“It annoys my mother. I don‘t have to wear pantyhose. And I‘m not sure anyone else would hire me.”

“All good reasons.”

Diesel drove us back to my apartment, and when we walked in, Carl was still watching tele vision.

“I was hoping he‘d made dinner,” Diesel said.

“Do you cook?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. I can open a jar of marinara sauce, dial pizza, and I can make a sandwich.”

“Works for me,” Diesel said. “What‘s your choice for to night?”

“Sandwich.”

We worked our way through ham-and-cheese sandwiches, a tub of macaroni salad, and half an apple pie. We‘d just finished the pie when Diesel‘s phone rang. This was cause for concern because in the short time I‘d known Diesel, his phone had never rung for anything good. He didn‘t get social calls, family calls, or dinner invitations. It looked to me like only a few people had his number, and their calls were always work related.

“Yeah?” he said into the phone. He listened for a moment, told the caller he was on his way, and disconnected. “We have to hustle,” he said to me. “Flash is on Wulf‘s tail.”

I grabbed my bag, and we rushed out of the apartment and ran to the Escalade. Diesel took us out of the lot to Hamilton and headed for Broad.

“I had Flash watch the Ferrari,” Diesel said. “I knew Wulf would come back for it.”

I was familiar with Flash from previous Diesel visits. From what I could tell, Flash was a nice guy who did odd jobs and had no special talents other than the ability to tolerate Diesel. He was five feet ten, with spiked red hair and multiple piercings in his ears. He was slim and at first glance looked younger than his actual age, which I thought was probably early thirties.

We picked up South Broad and Flash called in.

“I‘m on the outskirts of Bordentown. I‘m betting he‘s going for the Turnpike,” Flash said and disconnected.

“He always goes south,” Diesel said to me. “I got hung up in traffic on Broad Street when I was following him, and I suspected he went to the Turnpike, but I couldn‘t catch him.”