Free Easton's Claim (Colebrook Siblings Trilogy Book 3) by Kaylea Cross Page B

time. “That’s what I figured. What else?” He hadn’t been able to dig into Greg’s ex-wife’s life until now because he’d been in jail until just a few days ago, so he had his guys out doing it for him.
    “She’s a local real estate agent. Word is she’s been spotted around town with this guy since yesterday.”
    Brandon took the man’s phone and stared at the photo. Recognition flared in his gut. He knew that face. Brandon had seen him before, just couldn’t place him. “What’s his name?”
    The man blinked at him. “You know him?”
    Brandon nodded. “Don’t know from where. Who is he?”
    “Easton Colebrook.”
    Colebrook… Something sparked in his memory. Images swirled through his brain like a movie on fast forward. Of the night of the sting when he’d been arrested. A cop? “What have you got on him?”
    “His dad has a big spread of property outside of town. Horse farm. Well-respected family. Three sons, one daughter, and the old man had a stroke a few years ago. He and the sons all served in the Marines.”
    Brandon stared at the picture, frustration building inside him. He knew he’d met this man the night of his arrest.
    He sucked in a breath as recognition hit him. “He’s a fucking DEA agent.”
    The man’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Are you sure?”
    “Yeah, I’m fucking sure. I met him during a deal two weeks before I was busted, didn’t realize he was an undercover agent. Christ. I didn’t find out who he was until I talked to another guy in the joint who’d been arrested that same night.” He shoved the phone back at him and paced away, dragged a hand through his hair. “What the hell’s she doing with a DEA agent?”
    “I don’t know, but we’ve been working on his profile all afternoon and haven’t found shit.”
    “Because his info is classified, obviously,” Brandon muttered. Hell, this was more complicated than he’d imagined. “How close is she to him?”
    The man shrugged. “From what I can tell, she’s just a friend of his family.”
    “Nothing more to it?”
    “Don’t think so.”
    Didn’t feel right to Brandon. Greg’s ex suddenly hanging with the same DEA agent who had brought Brandon down? Way too much of a coincidence. “Any chance he’s dirty? Can we get him for the right price?”
    “Doubtful. From what I heard, the Colebrooks are pillars of the community-type people.”
    Brandon shot him a sideways glance. “Sheriff Greg Rutland used to be too.”
    “True, but if she’s a friend of the family, Colebrook’s not gonna turn on her or risk her safety.”
    “Where is she staying?”
    “We don’t know yet. We’re checking local hotels, but she may be staying with relatives or friends. Possibly the Colebrooks.”
    He spun around and aimed a lethal glare at the guy. “Find her.”
    “Yessir,” he murmured, lowering his eyes before he turned and rushed from the room.
    Brandon tamped down his anger and absorbed the stillness surrounding him. A goddamn undercover DEA agent. It was almost funny. Except it wasn’t.
    But maybe…maybe there was a silver lining here.
    He strode through the mansion’s game room and out through the leaded glass French doors that led onto the back patio. The large, rectangular-shaped pool glowed a bright turquoise in the darkness. Tall, wrought-iron lamp posts ringed the flagstone patio, casting pools of yellow light over the neatly trimmed boxwood hedges surrounding the private backyard, and the lush green grass of the lawn.
    An old trafficker friend had loaned him the place for the next week, if he stayed that long. This place suited Brandon. When he made it into the upper echelons of the cartel, he was going to have a place even better than this. Somewhere out of the States, maybe in the Caribbean or Mexico. He would live like a fucking king, and no one would dare cross him. He’d be rich enough to buy his freedom, even from the goddamn DEA.
    He needed to beef up the plan he’d devised while behind bars,