The Prey by Allison Brennan Read Free Book Online Page A

arm and he whirled around, tense from the news and the lack of facts.
    It was Rowan. Her pale face was drawn, but determined. “Michael, trust me. There’s no crime here. Send the police away.”
    “How do you know?” He mentally hit himself for assuming security was sound. If something had happened to Tess or Rowan . . . he didn’t want to contemplate the thought. He would not leave them alone again. It was
his
job to protect Rowan, after all, studio security notwithstanding.
    Rowan brought her face close to his and he swallowed. Something about this woman drew him in, but right now he was too angry and frustrated to dwell on it.
    “Michael,” she said softly, “I know who spilled the fake blood. He’s a good kid, and I don’t want him to get in trouble. I’ll let you talk to him if you downplay this. Please tell the cops there was a misunderstanding.”
    He almost refused. He felt like scaring the living shit out of someone, and a bratty kid seemed like a good target. “You’d better be right,” he said through clenched teeth.
    Michael approached the uniforms, explained there was a misunderstanding, and said he would speak personally to the chief. That appeased them, and they left. Annette tried to lecture him about calling in outsiders like the police, but Michael ignored her. He’d call in whoever was necessary to get the job done.
    Michael walked Rowan to her office, where she gathered her belongings. “Okay, what’s going on?”
    “Adam Williams is my number-one fan,” she said a little ruefully. “He’s nineteen and comes from a troubled home. I met him two years ago when I came to L.A. to work on my first screenplay. He started following me around and I confronted him.” She locked her office and they walked outside to Michael’s SUV.
    “He’s a good kid,” Rowan continued. “A little strange, but he doesn’t have anyone to talk to outside of cyberspace. When I went back to Colorado last time, we kept in touch through e-mail. I like him. I got him a job in the prop department when I came out here two months ago, saw him around Studio B today. This is something he’d do.” She shrugged and gave him a half-smile. “He likes scary jokes.”
    “I should have him arrested.” Practical joke? Perhaps. Michael would be his own judge of the kid’s intentions.
    “It would hurt him in ways you can’t imagine,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes. “You have to let me do this my way. I won’t have you threatening him. Adam’s not mentally retarded, but he’s a little slow.”
    “We’ll see.” At her stern glare, he relented. “I’ll do it your way—at least at first.”
    Rowan directed Michael to a small duplex only three blocks from the studio, in an older, well-maintained section of Burbank. “Adam lives in the rear unit. Please let me handle this,” she repeated.
    He wanted to object, but her tense jaw showed her determination. At the same time, fatigue brightened her eyes. He touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers, but it turned into a caress. He dropped his arm. “I’ll be your backup.”
    Rowan nodded, smiling wanly. She led the way down the drive to the rear unit and knocked on the door. No answer. She knocked again. “Adam, it’s me, Rowan.”
    Shuffling. A bolt slid out of its lock; the door opened. Looking through the screen, over Rowan’s head, Michael saw a tall, skinny, pale kid with enormous brown eyes and short brown hair. He wore a black T-shirt and faded jeans. His face was clear, hairless. He looked so young Michael wondered if he even shaved.
    Adam looked from Rowan to Michael and back again, shuffling his feet. “Hi.”
    “May we come in, Adam?”
    Adam glanced at Michael, suspicious.
    “This is my friend, Michael Flynn. He works for the studio.” When Adam didn’t budge, Rowan added, “In security.”
    Adam frowned at Rowan. “You knew it was me, didn’t you?”
    “I’d like to come in,” she said.
    Adam unlocked the screen door and let