Demon Possessed Read Online Free

visits, and the ones she knew the other Gretnegs dealt with on a semiregular basis, involved one or two agents acting on a tip or a hunch or whatever. Easy to tie up the loose ends when only a few people were involved. If this was getting big enough for Brian to have heard about it, it probably wouldn’t be so easy to clean up.
     
    Not to mention that Brian was psychic too, which meant Brian was not easily hypnotized. Brian wouldn’t forget the investigation. And Brian hated her involvement with the demon world.
     
    Because Brian was sensible. Because Brian was able to be objective. So Brian could see how the merest hint of impropriety could destroy her career. She had a public image to protect; she had a weekly radio show. She didn’t particularly enjoy the radio show but it certainly provided her with much-needed income, or, rather, the income from it enabled her to charge her patients based on their incomes rather than a flat rate. Which she enjoyed. The radio show also enabled her to provide at least some form of counseling to people who really needed it and wouldn’t have gotten it any other way.
     
    All that could crumble if the public discovered she was involved with a criminal.
     
    The sensible thing to do would be to end that in volvement. Well, no. The sensible thing to do would have been to end that involvement back when it started. Back when she really realized what she was getting into, back when she really realized she wasn’t just having fun, wasn’t just enjoying a casual and extremely satisfying physical relationship but was . . . emotionally involved. And that those stupid emotions could destroy everything she’d worked so hard for.
     
    So much for sensible.
     

Chapter Three
    Brian shifted in his seat. “So . . . yeah, I thought you should know.”
     
    “Thanks.” Damn. Damn, damn, damn. And one more for good measure. Yes, Brian was there about the FBI investigation, and worse. Brian was there because in this instance, at least, it seemed the FBI was working casually, getting background information, from local law enforcement.
     
    In the person of Brian’s girlfriend, Sergeant Julie Richards, among others.
     
    “Megan, I’m really sorry.”
     
    “Yeah. I know you are.” She managed a smile, one that almost made the furrow in his brow disappear. He looked tired, she noticed; shadows lurked beneath his blue eyes, and his light-brown hair stood out in little tufts at the back of his neck. He needed a haircut. “Brian . . . Julie wouldn’t exactly be pleased if she knew you told me this, would she?”
     
    “No.”
     
    “Right. So why, then? If you don’t mind me asking.”
     
    He shrugged. Looked away. “You’re my friend. And it really isn’t about you, you know. I mean, nobody thinks you’re—”
     
    “Yeah. I know.” Oops, that came out a little too sharp. Why did the idea that everyone thought she was some sort of innocent bystander bug her so much?
     
    Especially when that’s what she was. She didn’t know what sorts of crimes were being investigated. She didn’t know what sorts of crimes were committed, at least not beyond minor ones like the casino.
     
    But she wasn’t involved in them. She wasn’t some sort of moll. The very idea was laughable. She wasn’t busty enough to be a moll. Oh, and she doubted most molls had PhDs, although she supposed it was possible.
     
    Perhaps that was it. Everyone assuming she had no idea whom she shared a bed with, who he really was, was basically the same thing as them all patting her on the head and telling her they knew she was just a silly little woman, easily taken in by a handsome face, a flashy car—although that wasn’t fair; Greyson’s Jaguar wasn’t really flashy—and some expensive gifts.
     
    She did know who he was. She’d never been under any illusions about that, not ever.
     
    But she knew who she was too. Part demon. In charge of a gang of little personal demons who spread misery everywhere