Private L.A.

Private L.A. is the seventh novel in the Private series by James Patterson and Mark Sullivan. Thom and Jennifer Harlow are the most famous stars in the world with three perfect children. Jack Morgan investigates the disappearance of Hollywood’s biggest superstar couple. They lost without a clue, finding them was very difficult…

We invite you to read this fascinating story.

Prologue
No prisoners
It was nearing midnight that late October evening on a dog
Stretch of beach in Malibu
Lifelong Surfers
Set around a fire blazing in a portable steel shed into the sand
The multimillion-dollar homes up on the fragile Cliffs trono lights save security bulbs
Waves crashed in the Blackness beyond the firelight
The wind was picking up temperatures dropping
A storm
Built offshore
Facing the fire
Four of them with their backs to surfboards
Stuck in the sound
The men said coronavirus passed and sucked on a spliff of Humboldt County
Chuck Wilson
Who done two tours in Iraq
Come home at 26
Incapable of love and responsibility
Good only for getting high riding big waves
I’m thinking profound thoughts
I most assuredly have achieved total Clarity of mind
I can see it all dog
Cosmic
Sitting in the sand across the fire from Wilson
And stuff in the pouch pocket of his red LA Lakers hoodie
MP War reflector sunglasses despite the late hour
He smiled at Wilson from behind his glasses and Scruffy beard
His nostrils flaring
His longest
Straw blonde hair
Fluttering in the Wind
I second that emotion Wilson
MP said
And flick the underside of his cap so it made a snapping sound
His voice was hoarse
And hinted at a southern
Wish I could have scored weed that righteous in the Go-Go days before the crash
Said Sandy dreamily
Has he passed along the joint
Why would have seen all
The market
And live the life of wine
Psalm
And that beautiful herb you so graciously brought into our lives empty
Sandy I lost it all in the Great Recession
Brentwood House
Trophy wife
Big job Running Money
These days
Those days are freaking long gone
Said grinder
Barrel-chested
Darque Tan dreads
History bro
No amount of pissing and moaning about it going to bring back your stuff
For my board shop
Hunter the fourth Surfer
Was Herod in Suwanee
Escalloped
Fast backward wrong as usual Grindr
You want to bring back that stack of Benjamin Sandy
Sandy stared Into the Fire
Who doesn’t
Hunter nodded toward MP before handing him the roach
Mike Wilson
Can we bring
Perfect vision
MP smile again
Took the roach and 8
What do you see
Understand
Okay
Storm Congress
Kamal Haasan
And hold up in there you know
We do it the night of the State of the Union Address
So they’re all in there to begin with
President
General
Freaking Supreme Court to
Then we make the whole sorry bunch of them hit this weed hard enough
And Logan
They start talking to each other

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