First Drop tcfs-4

by Zoe Sharp

  From that basic idea, the whole of the story developed. The title FIRST DROP came from the rollercoaster analogy – once you reach the top of the first lift hill and hit the first drop, you can’t stop and you can’t get off. You just have to sit tight, hold on, and hope you survive to the end of the ride.

  It never occurred to me that my US publishers would pick up this book – number four in the series – and then ask for “Second . . . something” as their next foray. Endless confusion has resulted!

  The peripheral characters in FIRST DROP are among my favourites. I particularly like the retired FBI guy, Walt, and have even toyed with making him – and Harriet, of course – the hero of his own story. Maybe one day . . .

  FBI Special Agent In Charge, Andrew Till, was another notable character. The real Andrew Till is one of the staff at Lancaster Public Library, who were so supportive of my early work. His colleagues confided that he had always wanted to be a character in a book, and it was my pleasure to include him here.

  Please note, by the way, that this book was written during 2003 and first published in 2004. Back then, mobile phones, smart phones, and instant anywhere-access to the internet was nothing like as easy as it is today. I always had Charlie as a bit of a late-adopter when it came to technology. Perhaps the events of this book finally convinced her she needed to catch up a little.

  Acknowledgements

  Taking Charlie on her first American adventure wouldn’t have been so much fun without the assistance of a number of people. First of these has to be Maryellen and Paul Papadeas of Soundcrafters and organisers of the Spring Break Nationals – the World’s Most Famous Sound-Off. Maryellen and Paul not only graciously allowed me to use their event as the location for some of the action in this book, but were also absolutely wonderful about digging out obscure bits of information on Daytona Beach. If you haven’t been to SBN, then go. Experiences like Charlie’s happen in the pages of novels only!

  Richard and Beth Smith of Seattle were another pair of friends who patiently provided excellent and detailed advice on the correct use of numerous Americanisms, and I shouldn’t forget to mention the contributors to the DorothyL website who had their say on teenage speech patterns. Thanks to all of you.

  Also, Dr Perran Ross of the Florida Museum of Natural History, who told me all about the feeding habits of alligators; Ian Cottam and Lee Watkin, who taught me how to win a dirty fight; and Glynn Jones for making suitable armament suggestions. Any slip-ups are undoubtedly by my own hand.

  Various people eviscerated the first draft to try and help me keep the mistakes to a minimum. A big thank you for this to Peter Doleman, Claire Duplock, Derek Harrison, Sarah Harrison, Iris Rogers, Tim Winfield, and my copy editor, Sarah Abel.

  As always, my husband Andy has been my best critic and biggest fan.

  Also, grateful apologies go to our temporary neighbours, Robert and Caroline Roper, for putting up with much pounding of computer keys in the flat above them late into the night while I was writing this story.

  And finally, thank you to Blake Crouch, who so generously allowed me to include an excerpt from his novel RUN as a bonus feature at the end of this novel; to ZACE-eBookConversion for immaculate conversion of the printed book to e-format; and to Jane Hudson of NuDesign for the wonderful new cover design.

  if you’ve enjoyed FIRST DROP, why not try Zoë Sharp’s Other Works:

  Buy the Books!

  the Charlie Fox crime thrillers

  KILLER INSTINCT

  RIOT ACT

  HARD KNOCKS

  (FIRST DROP)

  ROAD KILL

  Excerpt from ROAD KILL

  SECOND SHOT

  THIRD STRIKE

  FOURTH DAY

  FIFTH VICTIM – out in e-format Spring 2012

  Short stories – eBook exclusive

  FOX FIVE: a Charlie Fox short story collection

  A Bridge Too Far

  Postcards From Another Country

  Served Cold

  Off Duty

  Truth And Lies

  KILLER INSTINCT

  Charlie Fox book one

  by Zoë Sharp

  ‘Susie Hollins may have been no great shakes as a karaoke singer, but I didn’t think that was enough reason for anyone to want to kill her.’

  Charlie Fox makes a living teaching self-defence to women in a quiet northern English city. It makes best use of the deadly skills she picked up after being kicked out of army Special Forces training for reasons she prefers not to go into. So, when Susie Hollins is found dead hours after she foolishly takes on Charlie at the New Adelphi Club, Charlie knows it’s only a matter of time before the police come calling. What they don’t tell her is that Hollins is the latest victim of a homicidal rapist stalking the local area.

  Charlie finds herself drawn closer to the crime when the New Adelphi’s enigmatic owner, Marc Quinn, offers her a job working security at the club. Viewed as an outsider by the existing all-male team, her suspicion that there’s a link between the club and a serial killer doesn’t exactly endear her to anyone. Charlie has always taught her students that it’s better to run than to stand and fight, But, when the killer starts taking a very personal interest, it’s clear he isn’t going to give her that option . . .

  ‘Charlie looks like a made-for-TV model, with her red hair and motorcycle leathers, but Sharp means business. The bloody bar fights are bloody brilliant, and Charlie’s skills are both formidable and for real.’ Marilyn Stasio, New York Times

  ‘Sharp deserves a genre all her own – if you are just discovering Zoë Sharp then you are in for a real treat.’ Jon Jordan, Crimespree Magazine

  ‘Charlotte (Charlie) Fox is one of the most vivid and engaging heroines ever to swagger onto the pages of a book. Where Charlie goes, thrills follow.’ Tess Gerritsen

  RIOT ACT

  Charlie Fox book two

  by Zoë Sharp

  “I am a violent man, Miss Fox,” Garton-Jones said, without bravado or inflection. “I can – and will – do whatever is necessary to control this estate. Remember that.”

  A self-defence expert with a motorbike and an attitude, Charlie Fox doesn't need to go looking for trouble. It generally finds her. House-sitting for a friend seems like an easy favour at first but the house in question is in the Lavender Gardens estate. Teenage gangs are running riot and Charlie's desperate neighbours have been forced to employ an expensive – and ruthless – security firm to apply rough justice where the legal kind has failed. The situation gets even uglier when a young Asian boy is fatally wounded in what appears to be a racially motivated shooting.

  Caught in the middle of an urban battlefield, Charlie's more than able to take care of herself but then she comes face to face with a spectre from her army past. As the tensions rise, lives will depend on Charlie working out just who she can really trust . . .

  ‘Sharp's first novel, Killer Instinct was a good read, but within the first few pages of Riot Act she surpasses herself. She succeeds in bringing the characters alive and Charlie Fox makes a powerful and attractive heroine. Equally, her other characters work well and she succeeds in creating snappy dialogue and mixing it well with action.

  'At times, Riot Act feels slightly reminiscent of Minette Walters' 'Acid Row'. . . (Sharp) takes her Lancashire setting, throws in a great deal of action and creates a fast-paced novel that is guaranteed to build on the reputation created by her debut novel and make her known as an up-and-coming talent in the crime world.' Luke Croll, Murder & Mayhem Book Club

  HARD KNOCKS

  Charlie Fox book three

  by Zoë Sharp

  'Perhaps if the army had known what was inside me, what I would eventually turn into, they might not have been so keen to let me go.'

  Charlie really didn't care who shot dead her traitorous ex-army comrade Kirk Salter during a bodyguard training course in Germany. But when old flame Sean Meyer asks her to go undercover at Major Gilby's elite school and find out what happened to Kirk she jus
t can't bring herself to refuse.

  Keeping her nerve isn't easy when events bring back fears and memories she's worked so hard to forget. It's clear there are secrets at Einsbaden Manor that people are willing to kill to conceal. Some of the students on this particular course seem to have more on their minds than simply learning about close protection. Subjects like revenge, and murder. And what's the connection between the school and the recent spate of vicious kidnappings that have left a trail of bodies halfway across Europe?

  To find out what's going on, Charlie must face up to her past and move quickly before she becomes the next casualty. She expected training to be tough, but can she graduate from this school of hard knocks alive?

  'If you only know Charlie Fox from First Drop, Second Shot, and Third Strike, you don't know Charlie. What you've got in your hands is a rare and special treat. It’s like finding some lost Jack Reacher novel or a couple of non-alphabet Kinsey Millhones that nobody knew existed. Don't let anyone tear it from your hands without drawing their blood.

  'These early Zoë Sharp books haven’t been a secret, but they've been harder-to-get than Charlie Fox in your bed. Think of these as the early years of Charlie Fox – she’s lethal and relentless, but still raw from the military experience that made her the kick-ass, take-no-prisoners bodyguard that she’s become.

  'But there’s more going on in these books than breakneck action and adventure. Charlie has heart, maybe too much for a woman in her profession . . . and it’s that caring, that humanity, that makes her much more than a killer babe on a motorbike. These books are your chance to discover Charlie Fox as she discovers herself, her strengths and her weaknesses, and sustains the scars to her body and soul that make her such a unique and compelling character.' US crime author and TV producer, Lee Goldberg

  ROAD KILL

  Charlie Fox book five

  by Zoë Sharp

  “If you stay involved with Sean Meyer you will end up killing again,” my father said. “And next time, Charlotte, you might not get away with it.”

  Still bearing the emotional scars from her traumatic first bodyguarding job in the States, Charlie Fox returns to her former home to try and work out both her personal and professional future.

  Instead of the peace for which she's been hoping, Charlie is immediately caught up in the aftermath of a fatal bike crash involving one of her closest friends. The more she probes, the more she suspects that the accident was far from accidental – and the more she finds herself relying on the support of her troubled boss, Sean Meyer, despite her misgivings over the wisdom of resuming their relationship.

  And Charlie's got enough on her plate trying to work out who suddenly wants her dead. The only way to find out is to infiltrate a group of illegal road racers who appear hell-bent on living fast and dying young.

  Taking risks is something that ex-Special Forces soldier Charlie knows all about, but doing it just for kicks seems like asking for trouble. By the time she finds out what's really at stake, she might be too late to stop them all becoming road kill . . .

  ‘After the traumatic events that took place in First Drop, Charlie Fox is back in England to recuperate. But then an old friend is seriously injured after a motorbike accident (that kills the driver) and Charlie's lethal instincts kick in to find out what the real story is, and who the true target was. It's really quite impossible to put this book down, but what really makes this (and the whole series) shine is how Charlie's kickass skills are rooted in her own femininity and character. So why might this not be published in the US? "Too British." More like too bad if it proves to be the case.’ Sarah Weinman, Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind

  ROAD KILL: Charlie Fox book five

  excerpt

  part of Chapter Thirteen

  . . . My parent’s house, on the outskirts of a little village near Alderley Edge, was a gracefully proportioned Georgian pile with a stiflingly manicured walled garden at the back and impressive circular gravel drive at the front.

  They’ve lived there since they were married, before the area went stratospheric and all the celebrity Manchester United footballers moved in. My mother pretends to sneer but I suspect that she’s secretly as smitten by their glamour as everyone else.

  We arrived a little before eleven o’clock. Early enough that my mother’s beautiful manners didn’t oblige her to invite Sean to stay to lunch. Her barely concealed relief, when he apologised that he didn’t even have the time to come in for a cup of tea, might have been funny if it hadn’t been so pathetic.

  Sean deposited the rucksack containing my bike gear on the old church pew in the tiled hallway and laid a hand on my arm.

  “Take care of yourself, Charlie,” he murmured.

  “Yeah, you too.”

  “I’ll try and get back up again before the weekend.” Undoubtedly aware that my mother was hovering in the doorway at the end of the hall, he bent his head and kissed me, no more than a fleeting brush of his lips. “And remember what I said.”

  “Which bit?” I asked, suddenly a little breathless and stupid from the effects of even so ephemeral a contact.

  He smiled, a full-blown knock-you-off-your-feet kind of smile. One that had my heart turning somersaults and made me want to beg him either to stay, or to take me with him. Hell, or just to take me.

  “All of it,” he said.

  Then he walked out of the front door and climbed into the Shogun without looking back. I watched him turn out of the gateway at the end of the drive and disappear from view before I closed the door. I turned to find my mother had moved up into the hall, as though it was safe to venture closer now he’d gone. She was wearing pearls and a summer dress with an apron over the top of it, and wiping flour from her hands on a tea towel.

  “You’ll stay for lunch, Charlotte, won’t you?” she said and although her voice was coolly gracious there was something a little despairing in her eyes.

  In a moment of pity, I nodded. “I have to get back up to Lancaster this afternoon, though,” I said quickly, forestalling her next question.

  “Of course,” she said, more brightly. “I’ll just go and check how those rhubarb pies are doing. We’ve had so much of it this year I’ve been baking for the WI market but I’m sure I can spare one for dessert.” She waited until her back was towards me and she was halfway to the kitchen door before she delivered her killer punch. “Your father will be so pleased to have caught you.”

  I’d forgotten. I froze in the middle of picking up my rucksack and it bumped against my hip. “Excuse me?”

  She paused then, turned to give me an anxious smile. “Oh, didn’t I say?” she said, artfully casual. “He rang earlier to let me know he’s on his way home. If the traffic isn’t too bad we should all be able to sit down together at one o’clock. Now, why don’t you go and wash your face and get changed, darling?” She gave my jeans and rumpled shirt a slightly pained glance. “I’m sure there are still some lovely dresses in your wardrobe.”

  ***

  My father rolled up on the dot of twelve-thirty, as though he’d been waiting in some lay-by down the road in order to arrive at such a neat and precise time.

  I heard the crunch of tyres on gravel and crossed to my bedroom window. When I looked down, I could see the roof of his dark green Jaguar XK-8 just disappearing into the garage. After a few moments, the car door thunked shut and he walked out carrying a small overnight bag and a briefcase. The garage door slid smoothly down behind him.

  He looked tired, I realised. From this angle I could see the slight drag to his shoulders. As I watched, he paused and seemed to take a deep breath before climbing the two low steps to the front door more briskly.

  It was interesting, I thought, to learn that even my father had to brace himself before he could face my mother’s company.

  Not to put off the inevitable, I came downstairs straight away to greet him. I reached the half landing just as he was setting his luggage down on the pew in the hall. He heard my footsteps and looked up
.

  “Charlotte,” he greeted me distantly and his gaze skimmed over my clothing.

  I had, as my mother suggested, washed my face and changed – into my bike leather jeans, ready to beat a hasty retreat as soon as lunch was over. Rather childishly, I’d been skulking upstairs until my father arrived, knowing she wouldn’t make a big production about it in front of him.

  Now, I thought I saw a fractional smile tug at the corner of his mouth, as though he knew exactly what my motives had been.

  My mother appeared out of the kitchen at the end of the hallway and came forwards to welcome him. He put his hand on her arm, almost exactly the way Sean had done with me but, when he bent to kiss her, it was a sterile little peck on the cheek.

  She stepped back and caught sight of me descending. Her face registered her disappointment but I didn’t have time to feel ashamed of my petty behaviour.

  “I’d like a word with you before lunch, Charlotte,” my father said. He inclined his head politely. “If we have time?”

  “Of course,” my mother said. But she would have said that even if she’d been keeping the food warm for an hour already.