Hot Target by Suzanne Brockmann Read Free Book Online Page A

used her sexuality to try to gain control.
    Just like blond and beautiful Sophia Ghaffari had done back in Kazbekistan, when she and Deck had first met.
    As Mercedes smiled at him, Decker wondered if she would go as far as Sophia had to gain the upper hand.
    Jesus, was he ever going to stop thinking about that?
    “Your privacy won’t be compromised,” Tom told Mercedes, trying to reassure her.
    She laughed. “Yes, it will. Look, can’t we just pretend that you’ve got guards posted here around the clock? I don’t mind having one of your men tag along when I go out. That actually might be kind of fun. And it’s okay with me if someone hangs here, guarding the place while I’m gone, but . . .”
    Deck exchanged a look with Tom.
Fun?
    “I know this may seem inconvenient—” Tom started.
    “And I know you really want this gig,” she cut him off. “So let’s compromise.”
    “There is no compromise.” Tom was absolute. “We’re talking about your personal safety.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m so sure some of those scary e-mailers are going to come out here and try to hit me with their computer keyboards. Or maybe they’ll chain-mail me to death. ‘If you don’t forward this to ten people in the next two minutes, great misfortune will befall you . . .’ ”
    Cosmo Richter, who’d seemed all this time to have his full attention focused on the garden, finally looked over at Mercedes and spoke. “Is there a reason, miss, why you feel the threats that have been made against your life are a joke?”
    “Joke,” she said, looking from Cosmo to Decker to Tom. “Yes, joke. That’s a good word for this, thank you. It’s a giant joke, gentlemen. It’s probably a stunt that the studio’s come up with to get publicity for this movie. You don’t
really
think someone wants to kill me, do you?”
    Her intercom buzzed, breaking in before Tom could respond.
    “I’m sorry to interrupt.” The voice of Mercedes’ personal assistant came through a speaker. “But an FBI agent named Jules Cassidy is down by the gate, and”—she cleared her throat—“the opener’s stuck again.”
    The brother—Robin—stood. “I’ll go.”
     
    The FBI agent drove a rented Mercury Sable.
    Robin wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t a four-door family sedan.
    The FBI agent was also shorter and younger than he’d imagined, getting out of the car as Robin approached the gate. Compact, with a trim build, he had dark hair that he wore cut short and a face that could have appeared next to Robin’s on the cover of
Tiger Beat
magazine.
    He could just imagine this guy’s meeting with his high school guidance counselor. “You could be a model or a TV star—you don’t really need any acting skills for that—or . . . Oh, here’s something just perfect! *NSYNC is looking for new blood—” “Well, you see, Mrs. Smersh, I hate to disappoint you, but I really have my heart set on becoming an FBI agent. . . .”
    “Sorry,” Robin called as he came the last few feet down the drive. “It sticks sometimes.”
    The gate actually stuck most of the time, and they’d gotten into the habit of leaving it open. But Jane had wanted it closed today—probably to fool the private security team into thinking she was taking precautions with her safety.
    It took him four tries to get the damn thing to work. His smile definitely felt strained around the edges by the time it finally opened.
    Now that they were both on the same side of the fence, the agent flashed his badge as he held out his hand. “Jules Cassidy, FBI.”
    “Robin Chadwick, SAG.” They shook hands. “I’m the brother.”
    “Nice to meet you. SAG?”
    “Screen Actors Guild,” Robin explained. “Sorry, I have this inability to not be an asshole, especially when I’m not provoked.”
    The double negatives didn’t stop Jules for even a second, and he laughed, taking off his sunglasses and . . .
    Hello.
Big eye contact. The FBI