by Fiona Quinn
Gater put his hand between my shoulder blades as he sidled past to his chair. Heat radiated out from the contact point. As the sensation washed through me, I reached out and planted my palms flat on my desk for stability as a psychic impression gained form, flooding my system with the surprise of information. Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home. This psychic “knowing” came to me as the usual illuminated oscillating words. Your house is on fire. Your family will burn. And my mind leapt to find a meaning.
I considered and rejected immediately my own house back on Silver Lake. As my consciousness brushed over my neighborhood and my neighbors – my real family, as far as I was concerned –I didn’t sense anything amiss. They were safe. Comfortable.
I turned my attention to my surroundings, my Puzzle Room. While my neighbors were my extended family, the Strike Force team were my brothers and Striker my heart. I pushed the sleeves of my jacket past my elbows and brushed my fingers over my skin where an effervescence bubbled across the surface, the same sensation I experienced when I walked through the front doors this morning. Here was where the danger lay.
I waited for an impression. I didn’t get much. But the understanding I pulled from the ether was that someone was using Iniquus like a girl who had too much to drink and couldn’t say “no”, so the boys all said “yes” for her. Viscous and nauseating, the energy painted over me. I slapped a hand over my mouth and closed my eyes against the dizziness that spun my head. Emotions shifted across my face as the brunt of that thought enveloped me. I shook myself like a wet dog to pull away.
“A ‘knowing’?” Striker stood wide-legged — about as moveable and vulnerable as a mountain.
My nods were short and quick.
Striker wrapped his hands around my waist and steered me out of the Puzzle Room, down the hall to his office, and shut the door.
“Let’s try to figure it out.” Striker guided me into his chair then slid his hip onto his desk to sit opposite me.
“The team?” Striker started the twenty-questions game we sometimes played to help me home in on the whys and wherefores of a sixth-sense impression. Striker was trying to steer my otherworldly information toward the mundane. It often took a series of baby steps to turn feelings into thoughts and thoughts into words. One snippet at a time. I pursed my lips tightly and waited for the “ah-ha moment” that would grant me physical relief from the psychic stress. There was a confirmation, but just a whisper. “No, not you or our team explicitly.” I said.
“Something here at Iniquus?”
“Yes.” Bingo. Iniquus. All of it. Our whole organization. “We’re under attack.” And that thought physically hurt.
Air hissed between Striker’s teeth.
I opened my palms. “I haven’t got anything more. I’m sorry.”
“Do you know what triggered your feelings?”
“I felt odd when I came into the lobby a few minutes ago, but it really hit me hard in my office.”
“I just came up from the lobby. I didn’t see you come in.”
That brought a smile to my lips. “Thank you.”
“Shadow walking, then? You must have had a full-on case of the heebie-jeebies.” He stood up, and pulled me into his arms. “Not a very good welcome back.”
He planted an affectionate kiss in my hair as he nestled me against him. His solidity felt perfect. I wanted to stay here where I felt safe.
Striker caressed a hand down my back. “I’m going to help you figure this out, but right now we have a time-sensitive case on your table. You’ve got to get your head in the game.”
I pillowed my cheek against his chest and the sick sensation in my stomach eased. I breathed in the smell of his freshly laundered shirt and spicy aftershave. “Who’s the lead?”
“Jack’s taking this case to lay ground work, though I’ll be in the field with them later today. Spencer needs me on something else.”
“So I understand. Who’s Scarlet Vine?”
Striker’s muscles tightened beneath me. I looked up at his face; it had gone blank as he shifted to military mode.
“Secret Service,” he said.
End of Chapter One
I hope you enjoyed it. You can follow Lexi’s story in CUFF LYNX by CLICKING HERE
Acknowledgements
My great appreciation ~
To Allan Leverone—you are so good to me, thank you for your kindness.
To my editors Lindsay Smith and Teresa Watson
To my early readers, who were honest and supportive at the same time: Melissa Berman, R. Soper, A. Matheson, J. Scaparroti, Ellen Branson.
To all of the wonderful professionals whom I called on to get things right especially: Angel Fraguada, J. Critser, John Gilstrap.
To L. Nash –for coming to my rescue.
A big hug and special thanks to Rock Higgins for tactical help as I was exploding Striker’s house – Rock, you are awesome.
Laura, was the character that I created from my friend, the real PT extraordinaire, Lorna McGlynn. Thank you for your expertise and everything you did to help Lexi get well so she can go fight the bad guys.
Please note: this is a work of fiction and while I always try my best to get all of the details correct, there are times when it serves the story to go slightly to the left or right of perfection. Please understand that any mistakes or discrepancies are my authorial decision making alone and sit squarely on my shoulders.
Thank you to my family for their support.
Kid #4 for her astute observation and patience as I read this book aloud to her – over and over again; for her naming Lynx, and coming up with the title of this book.
Kid #3 for eating cereal for dinner and turning the sound down on his electric guitar so I could write. And of course, the eyeball rolls.
And especially to my husband, Todd, he is the spin and the gravity in my life. T, I adore you.
And of course thank YOU for reading my stories. I’m smiling ear to ear as I type this. I so appreciate you.
Canadian born, Fiona Quinn is now rooted in the Old Dominion outside of DC with her husband and four children. There, she homeschools, pops chocolates, devours books, and taps continuously on her laptop. She is a contributor to Virginia Is for Mysteries, the author of the Amazon bestseller, Mine, and Chaos Is Come Again, and is the creative force behind the popular blog ThrillWriting. She is presently writing her Lynx Series
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Copyright
Chain Lynx is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
©2015 Fiona Quinn
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by Melody Simmons from eBookindlecovers
Garamond and Calibri used with permission from Microsoft
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