Read Online Hot Target by Suzanne Brockmann - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Brockmann
Tags: Fiction
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financial reality of this craziness sinking in.
Apparently protecting her was going to be a full-time job for more than a half a dozen people. That had to be costing the studio a crapload. God, she’d far rather have HeartBeat dumping this kind of money into the distribution of her movie. She’d take her chances with the lunatic fringe.
They all got to their feet as they saw her, so she pasted on her best smile, went in, and shook a bunch of hands.
Vinh Murphy, a former Marine, was even bigger than Cosmo. He was at least part African- and Asian-American, with a smile that lit his entire face. Jane would bet big bucks that he was plenty photogenic, but he wore a wedding ring and commented that he’d just gotten back from his honeymoon.
If she knew the tabloids, any picture they ran of her would include plenty of wink-wink, nudge-nudge innuendo. It was amazing, really, how much time was spent speculating about who she was currently shagging.
Particularly since the honest answer was “no one.”
The really depressing thing was that the story about her death threats would stay in the news for only a very short time. But a story combining the potential danger with her love life could run for weeks.
Months, if she milked it.
No, it wouldn’t take much to launch a convincing story about J. Mercedes’ hot and sweaty lustfest of an affair with her personal bodyguard. All she’d have to do was lean close, lay an impersonal hand on one muscular arm, and whisper into an ear as the photos were being taken.
And the papers would imply that she and the owner of that ear—possibly PJ Prescott, whose hand she’d just shaken—were doing the nasty five times a night and twice in the limo on the way to work.
PJ was a helicopter pilot and paramedic who’d served in the Air Force as part of the elite pararescue jumpers, or PJs, hence his nickname. Tall, lean, and good-looking, he suffered from what Jane thought of as “God’s gift to women-itis.” He was an openmouthed, gum-snapping grinner who apparently had learned that it was okay to ogle women as long as he remained boyishly charming and sincerely appreciative of what he was looking at.
He would, no doubt, believe what he read in the tabloids. Jane made a mental note never to be photographed standing next to him. She didn’t need that kind of trouble.
Which left only Cosmo Richter and James Nash, who was one of Decker’s XOs.
“Executive officer,” the woman standing beside Nash explained as Jane shook his hand. “Second in command. I’ll be filling that role, too, when necessary. I’m Tess Bailey. It’s nice to meet you, Mercedes.”
Nash was tall, dark, and elegantly handsome, but it was extremely obvious that he belonged to Tess, who looked more like the president of the elementary school PTO than a trained security operative. Her grip was solid, though, and her smile managed to be friendly and pleasant even while holding a warning.
Even if Jane wanted to—which she most certainly didn’t—it was clear that this was not a woman to mess with.
They all sat down to go through the procedures, to review what they knew about the Freedom Network, and to set up a preliminary schedule.
As Decker spoke, Jane couldn’t help but watch Cosmo Richter, a man they often addressed as Cos or Chief. And all she could think was,
Congratulations, Chief. Get ready to be whispered to.
“Your sister is an angel,” Jack Shelton said as Robin sat down next to him in the viewing room.
“I bet you say that to all the boys,” he said to the elderly man, his eyes on the movie screen. He both loved and hated watching the dailies—the film footage shot during the day. He’d done two different short scenes and—Oh, Christ, there he was. He had to watch his close-up through slitted eyes.
“She may have the habit of dressing like a three-dollar hooker when she goes out in public,” Jack said loudly enough for Janey to overhear from out in the hall, where she’d gone
Apparently protecting her was going to be a full-time job for more than a half a dozen people. That had to be costing the studio a crapload. God, she’d far rather have HeartBeat dumping this kind of money into the distribution of her movie. She’d take her chances with the lunatic fringe.
They all got to their feet as they saw her, so she pasted on her best smile, went in, and shook a bunch of hands.
Vinh Murphy, a former Marine, was even bigger than Cosmo. He was at least part African- and Asian-American, with a smile that lit his entire face. Jane would bet big bucks that he was plenty photogenic, but he wore a wedding ring and commented that he’d just gotten back from his honeymoon.
If she knew the tabloids, any picture they ran of her would include plenty of wink-wink, nudge-nudge innuendo. It was amazing, really, how much time was spent speculating about who she was currently shagging.
Particularly since the honest answer was “no one.”
The really depressing thing was that the story about her death threats would stay in the news for only a very short time. But a story combining the potential danger with her love life could run for weeks.
Months, if she milked it.
No, it wouldn’t take much to launch a convincing story about J. Mercedes’ hot and sweaty lustfest of an affair with her personal bodyguard. All she’d have to do was lean close, lay an impersonal hand on one muscular arm, and whisper into an ear as the photos were being taken.
And the papers would imply that she and the owner of that ear—possibly PJ Prescott, whose hand she’d just shaken—were doing the nasty five times a night and twice in the limo on the way to work.
PJ was a helicopter pilot and paramedic who’d served in the Air Force as part of the elite pararescue jumpers, or PJs, hence his nickname. Tall, lean, and good-looking, he suffered from what Jane thought of as “God’s gift to women-itis.” He was an openmouthed, gum-snapping grinner who apparently had learned that it was okay to ogle women as long as he remained boyishly charming and sincerely appreciative of what he was looking at.
He would, no doubt, believe what he read in the tabloids. Jane made a mental note never to be photographed standing next to him. She didn’t need that kind of trouble.
Which left only Cosmo Richter and James Nash, who was one of Decker’s XOs.
“Executive officer,” the woman standing beside Nash explained as Jane shook his hand. “Second in command. I’ll be filling that role, too, when necessary. I’m Tess Bailey. It’s nice to meet you, Mercedes.”
Nash was tall, dark, and elegantly handsome, but it was extremely obvious that he belonged to Tess, who looked more like the president of the elementary school PTO than a trained security operative. Her grip was solid, though, and her smile managed to be friendly and pleasant even while holding a warning.
Even if Jane wanted to—which she most certainly didn’t—it was clear that this was not a woman to mess with.
They all sat down to go through the procedures, to review what they knew about the Freedom Network, and to set up a preliminary schedule.
As Decker spoke, Jane couldn’t help but watch Cosmo Richter, a man they often addressed as Cos or Chief. And all she could think was,
Congratulations, Chief. Get ready to be whispered to.
“Your sister is an angel,” Jack Shelton said as Robin sat down next to him in the viewing room.
“I bet you say that to all the boys,” he said to the elderly man, his eyes on the movie screen. He both loved and hated watching the dailies—the film footage shot during the day. He’d done two different short scenes and—Oh, Christ, there he was. He had to watch his close-up through slitted eyes.
“She may have the habit of dressing like a three-dollar hooker when she goes out in public,” Jack said loudly enough for Janey to overhear from out in the hall, where she’d gone
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