The First Prophet by Kay Hooper Page A

he’s so good at it he might have made a career out of it. In
     fact, I’m surprised you don’t know more about him than I do.”
    “We can’t be everywhere.”
    “Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered.
    Ignoring that, the ice man asked, “What else? Weaknesses?”
    “Hell, I don’t know. He could be reckless. Cocky maybe, at least until he figures
     out what he’s up against. He’ll underestimate you in the beginning, I’d bet money
     on that. I’d say he likes to believe himself in control of any given situation; the
     kind of guy who never loses his temper if he’s losing a game, and smiles while he’s
     already planning how to kick your ass next time. And—I don’tknow if he could kill someone up close and personal. I don’t know if he’s got that
     in him.”
    “Maybe he doesn’t. But she does.”
    He was tempted to glance back over his shoulder but didn’t. Instead, he lit a cigarette
     despite the NO SMOKING signs posted and blew a lazy smoke ring. “Whatever you say.” Quite deliberately,
     he didn’t ask what he was supposed to do next. He hated that shit, he really did.
    Not that the ice man waited for him to ask.
    “All right, maintain the surveillance until you hear from me.”
    “If he’s going to move, he’ll move quickly.”
    “I know. So be ready.”
    “Me? What comes next is up to you people. I’m just here to watch, report—and clean
     up the mess.”
    “You’re here to do whatever we need you to do.” The ice man’s voice was silky.
    “I’m not your fucking hired thug.”
    “You’re my dog if that’s what I need you to be. Shall I order you to sit up and bark?”
    He smoked furiously, hating the bastard. And hating himself. He glared at the waitress,
     who had started toward him the instant he lit his cigarette but now decided instead
     to clear off a couple of tables.
    “Be ready. Understand?”
    “Yes.”
    A moment later, he was alone in the back of the restaurant. He didn’t see the ice
     man leave. Hell, he didn’t even hear him leave. And he should have. He really should
     have.
    A few moments later, the flirty waitress came back to the ice man’s table, bewildered
     by his absence but clearly pleased by the size of the tip left on the table. Even
     so, she glanced at the man in the next booth and said rather mildly, “Sir, there’s
     no smoking inside.”
    He pulled his ID from his pocket and laid it on the table, open long enough for her
     to see the badge.
    She left without another word.
    When Sergeant Lewis lifted his cigarette to his lips, he saw that his hand was shaking.

FIVE

    Sarah drew a breath of relief when Tucker returned to Margo’s house, not realizing
     until that moment how tense she had been while waiting for him. As for Tucker, he
     too seemed on edge and a bit preoccupied, and she wondered whether he was having second
     thoughts about even temporarily hitching his fate to hers.
    Not that she blamed him for that. No man in his right mind would want to be saddled
     with her.
    “Every light in the house is on,” he said mildly as he came in.
    She blinked and looked around, surprised to find it true. She had been restless, and
     she had wandered from room to room, her skin crawling with that now-familiar creepy
     sense of being watched. Her subconscious had obviously felt at least a bit safer with
     lots of light.
    She had very carefully not thought about the voice in her head.
    “He was outside,” she said.
    Tucker stood in the small entrance hall, ignoring her automatic gesture indicating
     they could go into the living room. He didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.
     “When did you see him?”
    “Right after Margo left. Across the street, moving between two houses. I didn’t see
     him again after that, even though I looked.”
But he’s still there. Still watching. Still waiting.
    “I didn’t see him when I pulled up, but it’s getting dark.” Tucker frowned.
    She tried to think of something reassuring. “Maybe