by CJ Lyons
Trip Wire
A Renegade Justice Thriller featuring Morgan Ames
CJ Lyons
CJ Lyons’ Thrillers with Heart:
To download the complete list in PDF click HERE or visit CJLyons.net
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LUCY GUARDINO THRILLERS:
SNAKE SKIN
BLOOD STAINED
KILL ZONE
AFTER SHOCK
HARD FALL
BAD BREAK
LAST LIGHT
DEVIL SMOKE
OPEN GRAVE
GONE DARK
RENEGADE JUSTICE THRILLERS, featuring Morgan Ames:
FIGHT DIRTY
RAW EDGES
ANGELS WEEP (coming 2017)
FATAL INSOMNIA MEDICAL THRILLERS:
FAREWELL TO DREAMS
A RAGING DAWN
THE SLEEPLESS STARS
HART AND DRAKE MEDICAL SUSPENSE:
NERVES OF STEEL
SLEIGHT OF HAND
FACE TO FACE
EYE OF THE STORM
SHADOW OPS, ROMANTIC THRILLERS:
CHASING SHADOWS
LOST IN SHADOWS
EDGE OF SHADOWS
CAITLYN TIERNEY FBI THRILLERS:
BLIND FAITH
BLACK SHEEP
HOLLOW BONES
ANGELS OF MERCY MEDICAL SUSPENSE:
LIFELINES
WARNING SIGNS
URGENT CARE
CRITICAL CONDITION
YOUNG ADULT THRILLERS:
BROKEN
WATCHED
CO-WRITTEN WITH ERIN BROCKOVICH:
ROCK BOTTOM
HOT WATER
SINGLE TITLE STANDALONES:
LUCIDITY, a Ghost of a Love Story
BORROWED TIME
Praise For CJ Lyons’ Thrillers with Heart:
"Everything a great thriller should be—action packed, authentic, and intense." ~#1 New York Times bestselling author Lee Child
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"A compelling new voice in thriller writing…I love how the characters come alive on every page." ~New York Times bestselling author Jeffery Deaver
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"Top Pick! A fascinating and intense thriller." ~ RT Book Reviews
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"An intense, emotional thriller…(that) climbs to the edge of intensity." ~National Examiner
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"A perfect blend of romance and suspense. My kind of read." ~#1 New York Times Bestselling author Sandra Brown
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"Highly engaging characters, heart-stopping scenes…one great rollercoaster ride that will not be stopping anytime soon." ~Bookreporter.com
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"Adrenalin pumping." ~The Mystery Gazette
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"Riveting." ~Publishers Weekly Beyond Her Book
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Lyons "is a master within the genre." ~Pittsburgh Magazine
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"Will leave you breathless and begging for more." ~Romance Novel TV
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"A great fast-paced read….Not to be missed." ~Book Addict
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"Breathtakingly fast-paced." ~Publishers Weekly
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"Simply superb…riveting drama…a perfect ten." ~Romance Reviews Today
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"Characters with beating hearts and three dimensions." ~Newsday
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"A pulse-pounding adrenalin rush!" ~Lisa Gardner
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"Packed with adrenalin." ~David Morrell
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"…Harrowing, emotional, action-packed and brilliantly realized." ~Susan Wiggs
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"Explodes on the page…I absolutely could not put it down." ~Romance Readers' Connection
Meet Everyone’s Favorite Teenage Psychopath…
Readers fell in love with Morgan in the Lucy Guardino thrillers and begged for more of everyone’s favorite teenaged psychopath…
Morgan’s story begins in the second book of the Lucy Guardino thriller series, with Lucy’s husband, Nick, playing a significant role as Morgan tries to shun her serial-killer father’s indoctrination and give up violence.
To see how Morgan’s story fits in Lucy’s world, the stories in order are:
SNAKE SKIN, Lucy Guardino FBI Thrillers Book #1
BLOOD STAINED, introduces Morgan and Jenna
KILL ZONE, features Morgan and Jenna, introduces Andre
The Renegade Justice Thrillers (taking place in the year between KILL ZONE and AFTER SHOCK):
FIGHT DIRTY, Renegade Justice #1
RAW EDGES, Renegade Justice #2
ANGELS WEEP, Renegade Justice #3
LOOK AWAY, Renegade Justice #4
TRIP WIRE, Renegade Justice #5
The Lucy Guardino Thrillers continue, chronicling Lucy’s departure from the FBI and her new adventures at Beacon Falls:
AFTER SHOCK
HARD FALL
BAD BREAK
LAST LIGHT
DEVIL SMOKE
OPEN GRAVE
GONE DARK
BITTER TRUTH
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Want to be the first to have a chance to read the new books? Sign up for my Thrillers with Heart newsletter HERE—and you’ll also get a free copy of the first Lucy adventure, SNAKE SKIN!
Be sure to open the Thrillers with Heart emails; they’ll arrive every few weeks with info on contests, new books, and exclusive offers for my readers!
Chapter One
Morgan Ames was doing something that all her life she’d believed was impossible.
As she lay on the grass, the thick scent of summer wafting over her like honey carried by the bees hovering near the wildflowers in the bouquet Micah had picked her, she let her mind drift. Something she never did—she couldn’t, not if she wanted to survive.
Never let your guard down, Clinton Caine had told her, when she was a little girl and he’d first begun training her in the art of killing. No matter how much fun you’re having, always be listening and watching. Trust nobody. If you think they suspect who you really are, easier to end them than to risk being caught.
She wriggled away from the memory of her dead serial killer father until she touched warm flesh: Micah’s ankle. “Hold still,” he told her, the scratch of pencil against paper growing furious. “I’ve almost got it.”
A perfect, lazy August day spent in a forgotten corner of Pittsburgh’s Frick Park with a perfect guy, who was currently fascinated with sketching her toes. Morgan almost giggled; she’d never felt so relaxed and content before. Morgan never giggled.
She inhaled and felt buoyant, ready to float away into the sunshine that surrounded them like a golden halo. She felt as if her senses were sharper than ever—and everything was so alive!
Not even the sound of Sheep laughing and playing in the distance could dent this perfect moment of utter contentment. All the Sheep out there, those normal people with normal feelings exposed for all the world to see, those humans wandering through their lives without a care or a thought that there might be predators – Wolves, like her father, watching and waiting in the shadows. Was this what it felt like to be one of them?
Was this what it felt like to fall in love?
The thought didn’t terrify her as much as it should have. After all, falling in love was pretty much the primary reason to exist for a fifteen-year-old girl like Morgan.
Except Morgan wasn’t like other fifteen-year-old girls.
Impossible, came the thought wafting on dreamy waves of nirvana as she wiggled her toes and rolled over onto her belly, enjoying the brush of the grass against her bare skin. Impossible. Psychopaths can’t fall in love; not with anybody except themselves. This feeling that made her head feel thick and her heart feel so light, it wasn’t lo
ve. Impossible.
“Hey, I was working,” Micah protested, even as he tossed his sketchpad aside.
Morgan pulled him down into the grass beside her. Now their faces were almost touching, so close she could see the outline of the scar along his neck. She edged nearer, her chin tilted to expose her own vulnerable jugular. So close she could see herself in his pupils, his irises a blue that was more brilliant than any sky surrounding her reflection. Micah’s eyes. The most beautiful thing in the world to Morgan. Still, she hovered microns away from actually touching him, enjoying the anticipation almost as much as the kiss that would follow.
Time stretched when she was with Micah—it felt as if they had forever. But too fast the sun would move across the sky and he’d be gone, home to his mothers. Then the hours would drag and stutter, the moon Morgan’s pale and soulless companion. No wonder humans slept during those dark empty hours, even though it was stupid and made them vulnerable to attack. But eventually the sun would edge its way back into the world, and she could literally count the seconds until she would be with him again.
But right now, right here, he was hers. She lowered her lips to his, enjoying the tastes and scents that were uniquely Micah.
Was this love? Impossible. Love was a con, designed to fool Sheep into creating new screaming, wailing baby Sheep. It was a release of endorphins, a rush not unlike the electrifying buzz that came from killing. Her father had been a prisoner to that buzz, addicted, needing more pain, more torture, more power with each deadly release. Until, like any addict, his lust for more, more, more had been his undoing and he’d gotten caught.
Morgan wasn’t like her father. She’d refused to allow herself to be consumed by bloodlust. But she most definitely wasn’t a normal girl, either. Micah knew that all too well. Yet here he was, on this perfect summer day, their last day of freedom before he returned to school and she to work, kissing her, his body next to hers, his hands stroking her skin, those strong, sure fingers releasing feelings she’d thought were impossible.
Maybe this was love, she finally had to admit. If so, she understood why the poets called it falling—it felt exactly like jumping off a cliff, unable to see the bottom.
But another voice, a voice that echoed her father’s, reminded her of the perils of love. People in love weren’t just fools falling. People also killed for love.
And that was the one thing Morgan could not do. Not any more. She’d promised Micah. More than a promise; a solemn vow with all her heart and soul. No more killing.
Not ever again. It was the price she paid to have Micah, to keep him in her life.
As far as Morgan was concerned, it was worth it. These feelings he stirred in her, feelings like what normal girls felt—they were more than love.
They were hope.
Chapter Two
Jenna Galloway loved Monday mornings. Her partner, Andre Stone, always left early to do his physical therapy at the VA and from there would head over to visit his grandmother at the nursing home in Squirrel Hill. That left Jenna time to lounge in bed, take a long, long shower, get ready for the work day, pour a cup of coffee, and finally, take it downstairs from the loft on the top floor to their offices on the second.
It seemed such a simple thing, a morning to herself. Although she loved Andre and would never, ever tell him, sometimes she missed being single and having her place all to herself. So Monday mornings had become her weekly mini-vacations.
She used her key to open the door labeled Galloway and Stone Security Consultants and then turned to enter the alarm code and deactivate it since Tim, their new office assistant, had the day off. Tim was a forty-something bank manager who’d been downsized. He knew nothing about security but everything about keeping things organized, rolling with their perpetually changing schedule and cranky clients.
No one came to Galloway and Stone because they were happy; they came to Jenna and Andre because something in their world had gone dreadfully wrong, and they wanted things fixed—now. Tim had quickly become invaluable, and Jenna didn’t want to risk him meeting Morgan before she could make sure Morgan knew to treat him right and not with her usual brand of sarcasm and disdain for the people she labeled “Norms.”
The office’s main door opened onto a reception area with minimal furniture: two chairs with a table between them, a large concrete planter with a leafy fake ficus—because Jenna kept killing the real ones Andre tried to grow—along with Tim’s desk in front of an intimidating bank of mahogany file cabinets designed to impress despite the fact that they held only office supplies and snacks.
She flicked the lights on, took a sip of her coffee, and then spotted a large manila envelope on the corner of Tim’s desk, the padded kind that had bubble wrap inside to protect delicate objects. She grabbed it with her free hand.
Jenna took one more step, saw the writing in green ink on the envelope, and dropped her coffee mug.
The porcelain shattered against the hardwood floor and coffee splashed up in a wave, staining her Manolo Blahniks and favorite Donna Karan slacks. Jenna didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. Her entire body froze, her eyes fixed on the writing on the envelope.
Judge Patrick Galloway
c/o Jenna Galloway
Galloway and Stone
Pittsburgh PA
Personal and Confidential
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No street address, no postage, no meter markings. The bottom of the envelope felt rigid against her fingers, and there was a faint scent of something oily. Jenna had been a US Postal Inspector before she’d opened Galloway and Stone—the package had every sign of a possible explosive device.
But she didn’t need her training to tell her this package was a bomb. She’d known it as soon as she’d seen the green ink and the bold handwriting with its flourishes, a strange combination of block print and cursive. She already knew what was in this package—it was her family legacy, the mystery that had haunted her most of her life and had driven her from her home in California all the way to choosing a career as a federal agent with the postal service.
Because Judge Patrick Galloway was her grandfather. And almost twenty years ago, he’d been killed by a bomb in an envelope exactly like the one she was now holding.
Her hand with the envelope trembled, then began to shake violently. She braced it with her other hand and pulled a slow, deep breath, trying to combat the fear and adrenaline overwhelming her system. She’d thought she’d buried that time so long ago—her feelings for her grandfather the Judge; the guilt and anger and pain and fear his death had wrought.
But now the sight of green ink slashed across a plain manila envelope was enough to bring it all back.
They’d never caught the bomber. Jenna remembered so many nights shivering alone in her bed, unable to force herself up to even use the bathroom in the dark, certain the movement would trigger a bomb beneath her bed. She’d drifted like a ghost through a house in mourning, convinced the bomber would seek her out next and punish her for her sins.
As if a twelve-year-old girl had sins venal enough to deserve a death sentence. Still, somehow she knew it was all her fault—the bomb, the Judge’s horrible death, the tears her mother and grandmother wept.
Jenna couldn’t tear her gaze away from the package cradled in her hands. For so many years she’d buried every memory of the Judge and his death. Yet, now the Judge and his legacy had returned with a vengeance.
A tiny noise like an animal caught in a trap escaped her and her bladder suddenly felt full. She closed her eyes, blocking out the ghastly green ink declaring her death sentence, and shuddered in a jagged breath as she fought the panic that throttled her throat.
One breath in, which barely made it to her chest. She tried another, this time forcing it deeper. One more, slower, controlled.
She opened her eyes and saw a petite brunette with short curly hair and outrageous sunglasses staring back at her.
“Is that my welcome home present?” Morgan asked, as she slipped her hands beneath
the trembling package that was threatening to slide free of Jenna’s numb fingers. “Jenna, you shouldn’t have.”
Chapter Three
Only Jenna, was Morgan’s first thought. The woman was a magnet for drama. She had no idea what Jenna had done to attract a mail bomb, but it was clear as soon as she walked through the door of Galloway and Stone that whatever it was, Jenna was about to crumble—and who knew what might trigger the bomb she was barely holding onto?
The only logical solution, other than running and ducking for cover, was to take matters into her own much more steady hands.
Which left Morgan now holding a bomb.
Jenna backed away, slumping onto the receptionist’s desk, her head sagging down and spine bent as she hauled in one tearful breath after another. This had to be personal—Jenna might be a drama queen, but she never fell apart during a crisis; it was before and after when she’d let loose with a barrage of emotions.
Then Morgan saw the writing on the package. She had looked into Jenna’s grandfather’s death—she knew more about it than Jenna herself, most likely. There was the same green ink, the same handwriting…but definitely a different bomb. Even through the protective bubble wrap, she could feel that this wasn’t a pipe bomb like the one that killed the Judge all those years ago.
