Two for the Dough (Stephanie Plum, #2)

by Janet Evanovich

You are who you want to be in the burg. It’s never been men against women. In the burg it’s always been weak against strong.

“You always did have a problem with undies. Remember when you wet your pants in the second grade?”

This was embarrassing because not only didn’t I have my gun with me, but my gun was smaller.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m special. I don’t feel pain. Probably I’m freaking immortal.” Oh boy.

“I wouldn’t let him see you in the shoes, though. He might go berserk. I think you should save the shoes for me. Wear something slinky with them. And a garter belt. They’re definitely garter belt shoes.”

“Give me a break. I’m a cop. I have a job to do.” “I’m a bounty hunter. I have a job to do too.”

There is no such thing as a good call at 7 A.M. It’s been my experience that all calls between the hours of 11 P.M. and 9 A.M. are disaster calls.

“What are you doing standing out there with your boyfriend?” “You see?” I said to Morelli. “What did I tell you? Now you’re my boyfriend.” “Lucky you.”

Stephanie Plum, master of the empty threat.

“It’s this awful car! It’s ruining my life. It’s sabotaging my career.”

His hand slid to the back of my head, he pulled me to him, and kissed me on the forehead. He gave me a hug, and then he was suddenly gone, striding across the lot, disappearing into the shadows.

I stuffed myself into the Buick, feeling warm and fuzzy, wondering if something was going on with Morelli and me. What did a kiss on the forehead mean, anyway?

I’m not sure whom I’d expected to shoot. Kenny, I suppose. Maybe Spiro. Maybe ghosts.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Jesus, Stephanie, say something!” I stared straight ahead, unable to talk, not yet able to breathe.

“Oh jeez,” Morelli said. “Don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

“What happened?” I asked. “You fainted.” “It was just too much,” I said to Morelli. “The dog shit, the foot …” “I understand,”

“Because I’ve already seen the movie, and I hate the ending.” “Maybe it’ll have a different ending this time.” “Maybe it won’t.”

“Christ,” Spiro whispered. “She thinks she’s fucking Clint Eastwood.”

“It’s terrible what happens to people. That they lose respect for life.”

“One for all, and all for one.”