Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Novel

 

TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

MORELLI, BOB, AND I sat at the little kitchen table, drinking coffee and eating donuts fresh from the bakery. The two Rangeman guys in the backyard were also drinking coffee and eating donuts. And the two Rangeman guys in the SUV in front of Morelli’s house were drinking coffee and eating donuts.

 

“They better hope Ranger doesn’t catch them eating donuts on the job,” I said to Morelli. “The closest you come to dessert at Rangeman is an apple.”

 

“At the risk of seeming unappreciative, four armed guards patrolling my property feels excessive.”

 

“Welcome to my world. I’ve got Rangeman tracking devices mysteriously dropped into my pockets and stuck to my cars.” I pushed back from the table, rinsed my coffee mug, and put it in the dishwasher.

 

“It’s my Uncle Lou’s birthday today,” Morelli said. “The whole family will be at my cousin Maddie’s house for dinner tonight. You’re invited.”

 

“No way. Your Grandma Bella will be there. She scares the heck out of me. And I’m sure she’s still got a vendetta against Grandma over the pie thing. She’ll secretly put the eye on me, and I’ll get my period nonstop for a month. Besides, I have my own chores. I need to do some food shopping for Briggs, and I’m going to help him walk the dogs.”

 

“What dogs?”

 

“The ten Chihuahuas that were living in a box with Forest Kottel.”

 

I grabbed my messenger bag, waved at the two men in the backyard, gave Morelli a fast kiss, and headed out.

 

I stopped at the supermarket, and two Rangeman guys watched over the Buick and two followed me around the store. I got a week’s worth of staples for Briggs plus some ice cream and chips and a paperback mystery.

 

One of the Rangeman guys carried my groceries to my apartment while another followed close behind, his hand on his holstered gun, ever ready.

 

I knocked once, opened the door, and Briggs came forward, surrounded by prancing dogs.

 

“Groceries,” I said.

 

“What’s with the armed guards? You win the lottery?”

 

“Ranger thinks I need security.”

 

Briggs stood on a small step stool and emptied the bags.

 

“A book?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, remember before television and computers we used to do this thing called reading?”

 

The dogs were milling around in the kitchen, watching Briggs.

 

“How’s it going with the minions?” I asked him.

 

“Most of them have the leash figured out. Gracie is hopeless. She always wants to run. I have to find a dog park for her. Bernie should be a circus dog. He can walk on his back legs forever. The bony one with the white tip on her tail is a real picky eater, but if I put a little cheese in with her food she gobbles it. Give me a couple days and I’ll have her fattened up.”

 

“You like them!”

 

“Except for Blinky. He bit me in the ankle. I think he has trust issues.”

 

“I was going to help you walk them.”

 

“That would be great! Maybe you can run a little with Gracie. I can’t keep up with her.”

 

We got Gracie and three of the others hooked up and took them outside. Me, Briggs, four teeny-tiny dogs, and two heavily armed men. A new black Porsche 911 Turbo was parked next to the two Rangeman SUVs, and Ranger was standing beside it talking to his men.

 

“What’s up?” I asked Ranger.

 

“It’s a nice day. I thought I’d go to Atlantic City.”

 

“You weren’t going to sneak off without me, were you?”

 

“That was the plan.”

 

“Can I talk to you in private?”

 

I handed the dogs off to a Rangeman guy, and Ranger and I walked a short distance away.

 

“A sick psychopathic freak broke into Morelli’s house and left his gruesome message on the kitchen counter,” I said to Ranger. “I don’t like it. I don’t like that he wants to kill me. I don’t like that he wants to kill you. And I don’t like that Morelli is now involved. I want this creep found and eliminated. I’m in. I know what he looks like and what he sounds like and what he smells like.”

 

“What does he smell like?” Ranger asked.

 

“Burning sulfur.”

 

“I understand your emotion, but you’d serve no purpose today. You’d be a liability.”

 

“Gee, that’s so flattering. Let me get this straight. You only have me tag along when I serve some useful purpose, like being a dumb bimbo in a bar.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You are such a jerk.”

 

“Babe.”

 

I was pretty sure this time “Babe” meant I was giving him a cramp in his sphincter.

 

He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to his car. “She’s coming with me,” he said to his men. “Jose and Rodriguez, follow me. Stay a quarter mile back. Keep channel 1 open. Roger and Mario, help Briggs walk the dogs and then return to Rangeman.”

 

“I need my messenger bag,” I said to Ranger.

 

“Why?”

 

“Identification, lipstick, cellphone, and Morelli’s gun, which has bullets in it.”

 

“Get it.”

 

 

Janet Evanovich's books