Read Online The Prey by Allison Brennan - Free Book Online

endless supply of poor farmers, and ultimately more drugs. If he could save just one kid from making the same stupid mistake Denny had made . . .
    He couldn’t think about his dead friend now. Not when he’d been so close to nabbing Pomera. But the bastard was always just beyond his reach. Next time.
    It wasn’t his job anymore, he reminded himself, not officially. Only when the powers that be needed him, needed his connections, was he given the opportunity to legally chase Pomera. He let himself be used because each and every time he was able to destroy a shipment. Keep at least one batch of drugs off the streets of America. And maybe—just maybe—save a life.
    “You’re right, Tess.”
    “You don’t have to fight a losing battle. Stay here and help Mickey.”
    “Speaking of Mickey—” John changed the subject. Tess wouldn’t understand. Couldn’t. She didn’t know the evil people did to others. To people they knew, as well as to total strangers.
    Focus on the case at hand. “Think he’s getting too close?” It wouldn’t be the first time, but Michael was a good cop. Yes, he’d let his personal feelings interfere on occasion, but he’d never screwed up on the job.
    She nodded. “Just like with Jessica.”
    John remembered Rowan Smith’s picture on the back of her book, primarily because it was so unusual for a novelist. Instead of a close-up, or half body shot, she stood in the distance, leaning against a pine tree of some sort, snow on the ground and branches above her head. It wasn’t even a front shot, but her profile: aristocratic, elegant, defiant.
    Most people wouldn’t be able to recognize her from the picture; she was dressed all in white, with long hair so blonde it looked as white as the snow in the background. It hung smooth and silky down her back. The picture conveyed an overwhelming sense of loneliness, of separation.
    “I’m worried about him,” Tess said.
    John took her hand and squeezed, shaking his head. “Mickey’s a big boy. He’s a good bodyguard. He knows what he’s doing.”
    “I’m not talking about his professional abilities. I’m talking about his personal involvement in this case.”
    “It’s kind of quick to make that kind of assessment, don’t you think?” Even as John objected, he guessed that his sister’s instincts were correct. Michael jumped feet first with women. Ever since Missy Sue Carmichael, the senior who took his brother’s virginity when he was fifteen. Then Brenda the following year, Tammy, Maria . . . hell, John couldn’t keep track of all the women Michael had fallen in love with over the years.
    Tess looked at him, her little nose scrunched up in disbelief. “Right, John.”
    Yeah, Tess knew Michael as well as he did. “Don’t worry about him, Tessie. He can take care of himself.”
    “Maybe, but I just feel that this case is different somehow. Higher stakes.”
    “I’ll keep an eye on him,” John promised.
     
     
    After thirty minutes of ultra-polite, frustrating, and tension-filled conversation with Special Agent Quinn Peterson and Rowan, Michael left the room, closing himself off in the den. He had calls to make.
    The good news was the FBI had reviewed the security procedures Michael implemented and the L.A. field office was assigning two more agents though Rowan had argued against it. Tomorrow they would interview Rowan’s Malibu neighbors. Four of the dozen or so houses on this stretch of beach were vacant, either vacation rentals or closed up while their owners lived in another of their homes. The FBI was alerting each property management company to watch those houses closely and notify the Bureau if anything looked amiss.
    Teams would be dispatched as needed, but resources being thin they couldn’t commit to full surveillance—only one around-the-clock team, aside from Peterson and his partner. But the FBI was working closely with local law enforcement to help coordinate information and offered priority use of their lab