Aim to Kill by Allison Brennan Read Free Book Online Page A

Pierson’s desk, her profile classic and elegant, with perfectly carved features and luscious red lips. He blinked when he realized she was wearing only lip gloss, not lipstick—or if it was lipstick, it was the most natural-looking color he’d ever seen. He’d seen a lot of colors. Hell, he’d kissed a lot of lips.
    As the men approached the door, she turned fully to face them, as if she didn’t like having her back to anyone. Cop. Zack would know, he never sat with his back to the door, either.
    But this little number dressed too well to be a cop, complete with an expensive-looking pale gray suit and blue silk blouse. And were those pearls around her neck? She looked nothing like the hot, flashy bimbos Chief Princeton liked to date. Far too classy. And she looked smart.
    Pierson walked in, smiling solemnly at the woman. Zack leaned against the doorjamb, not stepping inside until he knew what was up.
    “
Agent St.
Martin, I’d like you to meet the detective in charge of the case you’re interested in. Detective Zack Travis is, frankly, our best cop here. He’ll certainly be able to help you.”
    Zack vaguely heard the compliment. He was irate after hearing the first word. Agent.
    “What’s this?” he asked through clenched teeth. “You brought in the Feds without talking to me?”
    He didn’t have anything personal against the FBI. But every case Zack worked in which the Feds got involved, they caused more problems than their presence was worth. Not to mention they became all proprietary with evidence, kept local cops out of the loop, and generally acted like they were superior.
    “Detective,” Pierson said in a tone that made Zack take note. They stared at each other and Zack knew that his chief hadn’t made the move. It made him feel marginally better, but with the Feds hanging around his precinct, something was up.
    Pierson continued. “
Agent St.
Martin is here because of a similarity in your case with one she investigated, and believes her information may help us find the killer. I spoke with her boss yesterday and he assured me that they’re not sending anyone officially. I agreed, after hearing what information they had, that he could send someone unofficially.”
    “Yesterday?” Zack repeated. Why hadn’t the chief given him a heads-up?
    “I don’t have to remind you of the seriousness of this matter,” Pierson continued, ignoring or oblivious to Zack’s implied question. “I agreed to the FBI’s offer, but you’ll retain total control over the investigation. Agent St. Martin is here simply to help. Think of her as—” he paused, now obviously uncomfortable “—your partner.”
    That didn’t sit well with Zack, but he wanted any and all information that could help him find the bastard who murdered two little girls. Still, could he trust this Fed to be on the level?
    “You know how they operate, Chief. All wine and roses up front, false promises to share information, then wham ! They pull a rabbit out of the hat at the last minute, and we find out they’ve been keeping their cards close to the vest. We do the work, take out the bad guys, and they take the credit because they were less than forthcoming.” It had happened twice in Zack’s career, once with near fatal results. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.
    “I wouldn’t think it would matter who got the credit as long as justice is served,” Agent St. Martin said, her voice as smooth as twenty-year-old Scotch.
    Zack glanced at her, cool and collected, making him feel like a hothead. When he was a kid, he’d had a harder time controlling his temper, especially when someone was being unfairly picked on.
    “Zack,” his grandmother would say, “your passion for those who can’t defend themselves is admirable, and will take you far if you don’t become a bully in the process.”
    He’d worked hard at it, mostly had his temper under control, but tonight he remembered the bad taste the Feds left in his mouth the last