“No way,” I said.

“Afraid?”

Of course I was afraid. He made the Big Bad Wolf look like chump change.

“How do you always manage to smell like Christmas?” I asked Diesel.

“I don‘t know. It‘s just one of those things.” The smile widened, showing perfect white teeth, and crinkle lines appeared around his eyes. “It‘s part of my appeal,” he said.

“You were in Martin Munch‘s house earlier today, weren‘t you?”

“Yeah. You came in the back door, and I went out the front. I would have hung around, but I was following someone.”

“And?”

“I lost him.”

“Hard to believe.”

“Are you sure you don‘t want to roll around on the bed with me?”

“Rain check,” I told him. “Really?”

“No.”

Here‘s the thing with Diesel. I‘d be crazy not to want to take him for a test drive, but I‘ve already got two men in my life, and that‘s actually one too many. Truth is, I‘m a good Catholic girl. The faith has always been elusive, but the guilt is intractable. I‘m not comfortable having simultaneous intimate relationships… even if it‘s only for a glorious ten minutes. And Diesel isn‘t a normal guy. At least, that‘s his story.

If Diesel is to be believed, there are people living among us with abilities beyond normal. They look just like anyone else, and most hold normal jobs and live relatively normal lives. They‘re called Unmentionables, and some are more unmentionable than others. From what I‘ve seen, Diesel is about as unmentionable as a guy could get. Diesel travels the world tracking Unmentionables who‘ve gone to the dark side, and then he pulls the power plug. I don‘t know how he accomplishes this. I‘m not even sure I believe any of it. All I know is, one minute he‘s here, and then he‘s gone. And when he leaves, the barometric pressure improves.

Diesel stood and stretched, and when he stretched, there was a tantalizing flash of skin exposed between shirt and low-riding jeans. It was enough to make my eyes glaze over and my mouth go dry. I struggled to replace the image with thoughts of Morelli naked, but I was only partially successful.