Free Hot Target by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

0200. Vinh Murphy’ll be replacing me then,” Cosmo reminded her. Tonight was something of an exception. Once they got the team set up, they’d alternate shorter and longer shifts, with irregular end times. The key was not to get into any repeated, regular patterns that could be anticipated by anyone watching the house.
    “Vinh Murphy’s a former Marine,” Mercedes told Jack. “I’ll also be spending lots of time with James Nash and Tess Bailey, former Agency, and Larry Decker, who’s a former Navy SEAL like Chief Richter—you know, the commando types who got so much spin during the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq?”
    “A chief in the Navy. Eureka.” Jack’s dark eyes twinkled, young in his wrinkled face, as he smiled at Cosmo. Slender and slight of build, he still stood arrow straight—time hadn’t stooped his frame in the slightest. His suit was obviously new and hand-tailored. Cosmo didn’t doubt for one second that, should he flip through the pages, he’d find similar styles in the most recent issue of
GQ.
    “Silly me,” Jack continued, “here I was trying to figure out exactly how a Richter could’ve become a Native American tribal leader. Of course, I’ve lived long enough to know that anything’s possible.”
    Cosmo shook the elderly man’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’m familiar with your work.”
    Mercedes and brother Robin did a visible double take, both of them looking at him with varying degrees of surprise and shock. Cosmo could practically read the producer’s mind.
Aha. So that’s why the Wonderbra and bootilicious miniskirt haven’t produced the requisite amount of drool.
    Cosmo almost laughed out loud. People were so quick to judge, so willing to leap upon the most obvious conclusion.
    Most of them, anyway. Patty was oblivious, smiling dreamily at Robin.
    “Now, isn’t this intriguing,” Jack murmured, still holding tight to Cosmo. “But note, children, that he didn’t say he’s a fan, like,
Ooh, Mr. Shelton, I’ve been such a fan for years.
My guess is he got this assignment, did his homework—looked me up on the Internet Movie Database—and realized I’d dressed the sets of some of his favorite pictures.” He patted Cosmo’s hand. “He’s three hundred percent hetero, but the two-second fantasy that he might not be was lovely. Thank you, darling.” He turned to Mercedes. “If you’ve got to have one of those terribly clichéd affairs with one of your bodyguards, this is the man for the job. Of course, I haven’t met the others, but how can they even come close? He’s delicious.”
    “Yeah,” Mercedes said. “Thanks a million, Jack. Look, I need you to be really careful, okay? If you get the sense that anyone’s following you, or if you get any weird phone calls or threatening e-mail—”
    “I’ll make sure I let both you and HeartBeat know,” Jack said. “Although Scotty might not appreciate my sudden acquisition of a Navy SEAL bodyguard.” He turned to Robin. “Walk me to my car, Harold; my driver is waiting.”
    “Nice meeting you, sir.” Cosmo found himself grinning. He was finally on an op where he could divulge the details—well, some of them—to his mother, and she was going to love hearing about this.
    As Patty followed Jack and Robin out the door, Mercedes went down to the front of the little theater to collect a legal pad upon which she’d scribbled some notes.
    “Sorry about that,” she said on her way back up the aisle, obviously not sorry at all. “Jack does love to stir things up.”
    The woman didn’t walk. She paraded. Sashayed. Slunk. Or was it slinked? Whichever it was, she did it. On heels that were ridiculously high.
    Cosmo went out the door ahead of her, checking the hall both ways. It was empty. And dimly lit. Most of the bulbs in the ornate ceiling fixtures were out.
    “We have three days, tops, to find an actor to play young Jack,” she told him as he followed her up the stairs to the first and then the