Licensed to Thrill: Volume 1

by Diane Capri

  We start with a gift copy of Fatal Enemy, featuring the new heroine I really love—Jess Kimball. She’s a fiery woman, driven by her own past to fight for crime victims the justice system failed. Jess reminds me of Jack Reacher, only female, smaller, and nicer. Like Reacher, Jess is alone in the world wherever she goes. But unlike Reacher, Jess is on a mission only she believes in, only she can complete. You’ll find out what happened to Jess in Fatal Enemy and you’ll see exactly what I mean. In Jess’s shoes, could I do what she’s done? Could you?

  I hope you’ll love Jess Kimball as much as I do because her story continues in my bestseller, Fatal Distraction. We’ve included the opening chapters here for you to sample. When Fatal Distraction opened on Amazon as the #3 Bestselling Legal Thriller, only behind John Grisham, you can’t imagine how thrilled I was! (Why? Hang on a moment—I’m getting to that.)

  But first, speaking of Jack Reacher, Licensed to Thrill also includes opening chapters from my runaway bestseller, Don’t Know Jack. The success of Don’t Know Jack has been especially exciting for us because publishing Don’t Know Jack was a big risk. We had no idea whether readers would love the concept and the stories or not. Jack Reacher is a beloved man in many reading circles, as you may know. His fans are exceptionally protective. No one loves Jack Reacher more than I do. So when we published Don’t Know Jack, I knew I was sticking my head in the mouth of the lion, to be sure. I had my passport ready in case I needed to flee the country ahead of the lynch mob! (Sure, I’m joking—but not a lot!)

  But we knew we had a good concept, a good story, characters I loved (and some I loved to hate!). I hope you’ll see right away why #1 worldwide publishing phenomenon Lee Child calls my work, “Full of thrills and tension, but smart and human, too.” And why Lee gave the series an enthusiastic two thumbs up when he said, “Kim Otto is a great, great character. I love her!”

  Don’t Know Jack kicked off the Hunt for Reacher series and garnered #1 Bestseller spots on the Mystery, Hard-boiled Mystery, Police Procedural, Women Sleuths, and Legal Thriller lists both in the U.S. and U.K. I stopped holding my breath and put my passport back in the drawer. Whew! Close call.

  We hope you’ll be a Kim Otto and Carlos Gaspar enthusiastic reader, too. We hope you’ll want to finish Don’t Know Jack as well as the two bestselling short stories in the series, Jack in a Box and Jack and Kill. As long as readers enjoy the books, I’ll be licensed to keep ‘em coming!

  We’ve included even more bonus material for you, too. My Justice Series of suspense mysteries were praised by reviewers and readers as well, but I was especially pleased when the mystery reviewers at Romantic Times awarded Wasted Justice their coveted “Top Pick.” Who knew? What a rush!

  Here in Licensed to Thrill, you’ll find samples from all five of my Justice Series novels, including Due Justice, Twisted Justice, Secret Justice, Wasted Justice, and Raw Justice. Of course, we’re offering you these samples because we hope you’ll be just as hooked on the Justice Series as on the rest of my work.

  Licensed to Thrill includes the Behind the Book dialogue between me and Lee Child at a Manhattan cocktail party that instigated Don’t Know Jack; an excerpt from Lee’s Reacher Report sharing his views on the book; a fun blog post entitled “Diane Capri Reveals Lee Child (not Jack Reacher?)”; and finally—remember what I said about John Grisham? Well, I’ve never met the man, but he started me down the path to actually writing fiction instead of legal briefs. It seemed fitting to include my tribute article originally published in the prestigious masterwork Thrillers: 100 Must Reads, edited by my friends Hank Wagner and David Morrell. You know David, right? The creator of Rambo?

  If you enjoy what we’ve included here, you can find more articles, interesting stuff, and the lowdown on my website any time. I hope you’ll stop by. It would be great fun for me to talk to you and learn a bit more about you. Speaking of that, I’d be thrilled if you’d consider joining our Capri Club. Chat with us and other readers. Let me know what you like to read—and what you don’t. We’ll see what we can do. Visit us at DianeCapri.com or join us on Facebook at: DianeCapriBooks. Find additional contact links below in the Author’s Note section.

  If you would like to be kept up to date with infrequent emails including release dates for Diane Capri Books, free offers, gifts, and general information, please sign up for our mailing list. We don’t want to leave you out! Sign up here: http://dianecapri.com/contact/

  So there you have it. Lawyers don’t lie, you know. Hand-to-heart, I’ve shared the whole truth and nothing but the truth on this very special volume we’re calling Diane Capri: Licensed to Thrill. I really hope you’ll love it (and I told you why). Thank you for reading and see you next time between the covers!

  Enjoy!

  When Life Hands You Lemons,

  Make Martinis—With a Twist!

  The Diane Capri Story

  LIFE WAS HUMMING ALONG on all cylinders for a while. Born in Alabama, I grew up in a small German-American farming town north of Detroit, where I lived a book-filled childhood and followed most of the rules. Graduated from Wayne Law School cum laude and served as an editor of the Wayne Law Review. Ranked in the top 1% of lawyers nationwide, and practiced law throughout the U.S., representing clients from around the world. While I published millions of words during my legal career, most of them were nonfiction. Never drank gin martinis, shaken or stirred.

  Always an insatiable reader with a keen interest in crime fiction, particularly mystery and suspense, I spent the travel years on airplanes and in hotel rooms. I put the time to good use by learning fiction craft when not practicing law, but friends pointed out that my fiction files contained only desire and incomplete projects. Too true. Grisham and Turow and many other lawyers hit the fiction world long before me.

  But in 1995, one shocking phone call destroyed my thriving law practice. My largest client was overwhelmed by product liability lawsuits and filed for bankruptcy protection, blasting a gaping hole in my by-the-book life and leaving me with an uncollectable debt besides.

  Pelted by these lemons, gin martinis were a viable option. But I don’t like gin. I’ve been called a Pollyanna and perhaps that’s true, because I was sure I could find a better answer. Like what? Well, I loved that creation story about the famous author who got fired at age forty and became Lee Child.

  Of course, I hadn’t heard that story in 1995 and he wasn’t famous then.

  I had heard the one from the medical clerk who wrote A is for Alibi to kill off her ex-husband and become Sue Grafton. I didn’t have an ex-husband, but more than a few folks had recently made my list of jerks the world could do without. Hmmm....

  I’d been through Travis McGee’s adventures a dozen times, never tiring of exploits that traveled along smoothly on Boodles Gin. I’d moved to Florida and adored everything about the Sunshine State. The hours to write what I loved instead of what paid the bills now stretched endlessly ahead and I figured it was now or never.

  So sure, Pollyanna, why not?

  You’re thinking I acquired a taste for gin martinis, killed off the bad guys, finished the book, and lived happily ever after? Um, not exactly.

  After a series of false starts, I challenged myself to finish Due Justice in the style of stories I loved to read, put my head down and went to work.

  Due Justice and the three books that followed are suspenseful Florida mysteries set in the legal world. Rather than a strapping, muscular boat-bum like McGee, my hero is Federal Judge Wilhelmina Carson, a strong woman who drinks Bombay Sapphire Gin and delivers true justice along with a splash of humor. The Willa books quickly found a publisher, an audience, and acclaim as well, under the author name M. Diane Vogt.

  So, not Lee Child or Sue Grafton, but there I was, up and running, humming along on all cylinders again. All’s well that ends well? Not so fast.

  You guessed it: Another fusillade of lemons.

  Slammed by lawsuits, my publisher failed and bankruptcy followed. A legal quagmire swamped my career. Ag
ain. And this time, it swallowed my books, too.

  Quick! Juice those lemons! Shaken? Stirred? Who cares? Bring on the martinis and keep ‘em coming! Except Pollyanna doesn’t like gin, as it turns out. Nor is she a loner.

  We all get by with a little help from our friends and writers are some of the most generous people anywhere. I’d long been active in Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Romance Writers of America, and other writing organizations. The friends I’d made there encouraged me to get back to work.

  While Judge Willa was literally being held hostage, I wrote two new thrillers, one featuring Florida lawyer Jennifer Lane, Raw Justice, and the second starring victim’s rights advocate Jess Kimball and her good friend, Florida Governor Helen Sullivan, Fatal Distraction. These books featured ramped up suspense and increased body counts, mostly within the bounds of the law. Sue Grafton was right about literary revenge. Very satisfying. Easier on the liver than gin martinis, too.

  While I was writing Fatal Distraction, I was invited to join International Thriller Writers at its inception. Shortly thereafter, I became a member of the ITW board along with my friend, the #1 International Bestselling author, Lee Child. Later, I served as Executive Vice President. It was a great experience and I can highly recommend enjoying everything ITW has to offer for readers and writers alike.

  At a cocktail party in New York in 2009, without a martini in hand, Lee and I discussed one of the great existential questions: Where the hell is Jack Reacher between exploits, anyway?

  The answer was unknown, which inspired me to write a series of suspense novels answering the inquiry with Lee’s blessing. The first of those novels is Don’t Know Jack, introducing FBI Special Agents Kim Otto and Carlos Gaspar.

  Thankfully, readers enjoyed the tale. Readers made Don’t Know Jack, a bestseller, allowing the short story single, Jack in a Box, to quickly follow. All of my books are now enjoying wide readership again, proving there is life after the law.

  I hesitate to tempt fate by saying we’re humming along. Yet, The Hunt for Reacher Series is great fun. We travel behind Reacher and discover what happened to the people left behind in his wake. Another short story followed the first, titled Jack and Kill. The second novel, Get Jack Back, is scheduled for release in early 2013, publishing gods willing.

  Readers ask me whether Otto and Gaspar will find Reacher at some point. My answer is: sure, whenever Reacher wants to be found.

  And then what?

  Who will win the inevitable confrontation? My money’s on Otto. I’ll understand if you feel differently. After all, Reacher’s bigger, stronger, meaner, and much less anxious. So what? The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

  For now, I’m still a snowbird. We live in perpetual summer, dividing our time between homes in Northern Michigan and Florida. Still married to my one and only husband. Still love dogs, writing, sunshine, warm temperatures, gourmet food, dark chocolate everything, dry red wine, convertible cars and my very large extended family.

  I never developed a taste for gin.

  I’ll always love Willa Carson, Jenny Lane, Jess Kimball, and reading Travis McGee. I hope you’ll always enjoy them, too. But these days, I’m busy on The Hunt for Reacher.

  Want to come along? Bring vodka—life will supply the lemons.

  CHAPTER ONE

  JESS KIMBALL SWITCHED THE Glock’s grip to her left hand, raised her right to rub her sore neck and stretched her shoulders. Her body seemed to hum at the cellular level. She felt fatigued, yet buzzingly alert. She hadn’t been in the same room with Richard Martin for more than a dozen years. Worse things than Richard had happened to her since she’d seen him last. He’d find out soon enough that she wasn’t a gullible sixteen-year-old anymore.

  Dressed crown to sole in black, sitting as still as the furniture, Jess was indistinguishable from her surroundings. Ambient light was non-existent in the quiet neighborhood, where crime should’ve been non-existent. The microwave clock glowed 3:00:15 a.m. providing the room’s only illumination.

  Jess leaned back, ankles crossed, heels propped on the kitchen table, and settled in to wait through the remainder of the third night. A bouquet of Stargazer lilies stood across the room but their fragrant perfume filled the air like oxygen. Richard was allergic to Stargazers. Jess appreciated the subtle torture although she hadn’t planned it.

  Man, she hated custody battles; the children always lose. But this custody dispute was different, more vital. She couldn’t refuse to help this time because the victim was Richard Martin’s daughter. Knowing Richard as she did would make the difference between success and failure.

  As malevolent a bastard as ever drew breath, Richard was far from stupid. He would try to steal Anna until someone stopped him. If not tonight, then tomorrow or another night soon. Jess felt it, yes. Instinct and preparation had saved her life before. She wouldn’t ignore them now. But hunches were not enough.

  Her throat was parched, but she couldn’t risk a trip to the faucet for water. Time seemed stagnant even as the clock reflected 3:10:21 a.m. Combating boredom, her thoughts wandered again to Richard when she’d been in lust with him. Inside the ski mask, her face burned now with a different heat. He’d been her first romance when she was sixteen and seeking love wherever she could find it. She’d felt as treasured as a rare art object for about three weeks. The warning signs were there if only she’d been sophisticated enough to recognize them. She wasn’t. She’d made a significant mistake a long time ago, and it had defined her life evermore.

  Undisclosed petty crimes and scandals had blown the Martin family into her town and serious crimes hastened them away a year later. Richard had turned eighteen as his crimes escalated. He’d have gone to prison. A chill ran through her as she recalled how narrowly she’d escaped his bondage when Richard’s parents rushed him to a new jurisdiction moments before his arrest for grand theft auto.

  Jess stretched again, shifted the gun purposefully at 3:12:46 a.m. She noted its heft increasing with the slightest attention paid during the passing seconds. Show yourself, Richard, you coward.

  Richard never knew that he’d left her pregnant with Peter. Nor had he cared. Jess’s embarrassed adolescent pride kept the news from him at first. Later, when she realized his miserable domination for what it was, she concealed Peter from Richard and vowed she always would. Not that he’d ever looked back. Jess was grateful for that much.

  She’d never told anyone who’d fathered her son. Nor would she. When people asked, she simply said she didn’t know. If pressed for more details, she said she’d been raped by an unknown assailant who was never apprehended, which was technically accurate but not true. She’d been a minor back then and Richard was not, so what he’d done was statutory rape and he’d have gone to jail if anyone had bothered to report his crime. But she’d been a willing participant in his seduction. Still, “rape” described precisely how she felt when Richard tossed her aside like a used rag. Maybe that was when anger’s spark lodged firmly in her gut and flamed whenever Richard’s name was mentioned.

  So far, the rape answer had sufficed. No one ever tried to hunt down a man Jess Kimball couldn’t find for herself. People assumed an investigative journalist of her stature, coupled with her national crusade for victims’ rights, made Jess infallible as a prison-trained bloodhound. Which was true.

  3:23:07 a.m. How much longer should she wait tonight? At least until dawn. She’d promised Betsy. And then she’d be back tomorrow. Richard had told Betsy he was coming, simply to terrorize her further. Jess would be waiting for as long as it took.

  Jess inhaled deeply, drawing the Stargazers’ fragrance into her lungs and remembered how she’d watched Richard’s life from afar. Memories heated her temper and chased away the last of the early morning chill. He’d cut a wide swath through a long list of gullible girls and later, gullible women. None of them were foolish enough to deliver his child afterward, but each one bore invisible scars Jess could easily discern just the same.

  U
ntil seven years ago when Richard seized sexier, younger, naive, sensitive and fragile Betsy. She never stood a chance.

  Jess had contacted Betsy back then, tried to warn her before she married him, but Betsy’s inexperience prevailed. Thus began the destructive tango that led them all here.

  All these years later, Jess felt grateful to have escaped Richard’s cruelty but guilty, too. Survivor guilt was what the psychologists called it. Irrational perhaps, but real enough. She shrugged; she supposed Richard had to marry someone eventually. He wasn’t a man who’d remain single forever and Jess couldn’t save all the Betsys in the world. She prayed silently, Just this one, please.

  Jess wagged her head back and forth and stretched her neck, attempting to push the fatigue and the memories away. But her stress had long ago settled into knots harder than obsidian. She needed to stand, walk out the tension, but she couldn’t risk being discovered. Failure was not an option. Not this time. She tried to focus on something other than her screaming muscles.

  She couldn’t keep her gaze from the microwave clock. Only 3:34:17 a.m. Would this night never end?

  Betsy had never asked why Jess agreed to help her and thus spared the lies. Betsy didn’t know Richard had fathered a son or that Peter was kidnapped. Betsy presented Jess with a second chance to save Betsy and her daughter before Richard destroyed them as he’d destroyed Jess and Peter. Maybe Betsy had forgotten her worth, but Jess would not. Nor would she allow Richard to harm Peter’s half-sister. Someday his sister’s DNA would help Jess prove Peter’s identity. When she found Peter, he’d have both his sister and his mother.

  Jess avoided the ultimate question her son was sure to ask one day: “Why did you put my father in prison?”

  At 3:54:17 a.m., as if her thoughts had conjured him, she heard Richard’s heavy tread on the squeaky plank decking. Every nerve stood at attention while she remained as still as the lilies.