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“I assume this is my car,” he said.
“Yep,” I replied.
“No one was hurt?”
“Nope. Briggs was a little rattled, but he’s okay.”
He wrapped an arm around me. “How about you? Were you rattled?”
“I’m always rattled.”
“Do we know who did this?”
“No. I was in the grocery store, and Briggs was sitting in the car. He decided to come get me, got out of the car, heard a WHOOSH, and next thing he was flying through the air. He didn’t see anything, but I think it sounds like the rocket guy.”
“So this is the fourth attempt to kill him?”
“Yes. Three
firebombs shot from some sort of rocket launcher, and one car bomb.”
“Any suspects?”
“Several.”
“We have two options,” Ranger said. “We find the inept amateur who’s doing this, or I put a bullet in Briggs’s brain and we get on with our lives.”
I was pretty sure Ranger wasn’t serious about shooting Briggs, but then again, he had a point.
We looked back at Briggs. He was sitting on a bench with a blanket wrapped around him, and his feet didn’t touch the ground.
“Your call,” Ranger said.
“Boy, this is a tough decision.”
A smile twitched at the corner of Ranger’s mouth, and he kissed me just above my ear. “I suppose we should take him home. Where is he living?”
“In my apartment.”
“Babe.”
“I’m letting him stay there while it’s under construction.”
“And you?”
“I’m rooming with Morelli.”
TWENTY
WE DROPPED BRIGGS and his groceries at my apartment building, and Ranger drove me to the bail bonds office, where the Buick was still parked.
“Have you heard from Vlatko?” I asked Ranger.
“No. With any luck, he’s busy working on his primary assignment and I have time to find him before he goes on the attack after us. I had a contact comb through recently issued visas, and no one named Vlatko was on the list, so we can assume he’s using a different name.”
“We know he’s working out of the Russian consulate in New York,” I said. “Suppose I go back there and try to get a name.”
“Do you have an angle?”
