Eye of the Storm
EYE OF THE STORM
A Hart & Drake Thriller
CJ Lyons
Praise for New York Times Bestseller CJ Lyons:
“Everything a great thriller should be—action packed, authentic, and intense.” ~#1 New York Times bestselling author Lee Child
“A compelling new voice in thriller writing…I love how the characters come alive on every page.” ~
New York Times
bestselling author Jeffery Deaver
“Top Pick! A fascinating and intense thriller.” ~ RT Book Reviews
“An intense, emotional thriller…(that) climbs to the edge of intensity.” ~National Examiner
“A perfect blend of romance and suspense. My kind of read.” ~#
1 New York Times
Bestselling author Sandra Brown
“Highly engaging characters, heart-stopping scenes…one great rollercoaster ride that will not be stopping anytime soon.” ~Bookreporter.com
“
Adrenalin pumping.” ~The Mystery Gazette
“Riveting.” ~Publishers Weekly Beyond Her Book
Lyons “is a master within the genre.” ~Pittsburgh Magazine
“Will leave you breathless and begging for more.” ~Romance Novel TV
“A great fast-paced read….Not to be missed.” ~Book Addict
“
Breathtakingly fast-paced.” ~Publishers Weekly
“Simply superb…riveting drama…a perfect ten.” ~Romance Reviews Today
“Characters with beating hearts and three dimensions.” ~Newsday
“A pulse-pounding adrenalin rush!” ~Lisa Gardner
“Packed with adrenalin.” ~David Morrell
“…Harrowing, emotional, action-packed and brilliantly realized.” ~Susan Wiggs
“Explodes on the page…I absolutely could not put it down.” ~Romance Readers’ Connection
CJ Lyons and Thrillers with Heart are registered trademarks of CJ Lyons, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems-except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from its publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2014, CJ Lyons
Legacy Books
Cover art: Cory Clubb
Library of Congress Case # 1-273031561
Dear Reader,
Thanks for joining Hart & Drake in their adventures! If you are new to them, their story begins in
NERVES OF STEEL, SLEIGHT OF HAND, FACE TO FACE,
and their holiday wedding takes place in
EYE OF THE STORM
.
I hope you enjoy these two wounded souls as they reclaim their lives and learn to love again. Want news of my next book? Sign up for my Thrillers with Heart newsletter
HERE
Can two lost souls save each other? Meet Hart & Drake:
Chapter 1
THE SECURITY GUARD
was surprised to see her there. All alone.
He remembered checking her into the Fairstone Museum. She had arrived early, before the rush of limos and Town Cars, accompanied by the tall guy in the off-white dinner jacket and black tie—he remembered because this crowd was strictly into monkey suits. The Artist, the guard thought. They were the only ones who ever arrived early.
At least Mr. Dinner Jacket seemed to have some class. At the last opening, the Artist had arrived in surfer shorts, sporting roach clips and a heroin spoon as jewelry. The crowd loved that, talked all night about his “free spirit” and unwillingness to be “caged by conformity.” The guard rolled his eyes at the memory. What a crock. The guy was merely stoned out of his gourd. From the looks of his so-called art, piles of sand with twigs and dog crap stuck in them, drugs were his main source of inspiration as well.
The guard fidgeted, one hand smoothing his hair over the bald spot on top of his head. He looked out into the glass-walled atrium—itself a piece of art with its never-ending springtime of colorful blooms, songbirds, and butterflies that even now, three days before Christmas, kept the Pittsburgh winter at bay. Why was she out there all alone? Did she and Mr. Dinner Jacket have a fight? Maybe he should see if she needed anything.
She sat, knees hugged to her chest, the long, purple dress flowing away from her body in streams of color, and curled her bare feet into the luscious carpet of grass. Eggplant, the guard thought, that’s what his wife would call the color of her dress. It didn’t look like the color of a vegetable, not to him. It reminded him of those ancient sailors, the Phoenicians; the Discovery Channel had just done a special on them; he’d liked the way their ships seemed to fly over the water. They had a special purple dye reserved for royalty—that’s what color her dress was.
He glanced at his watch. It was getting late, everyone was here already. Should he tell her? Maybe she didn’t want to go inside and face the guy? He could call her a cab, help her get back home.
The guard sighed and stopped his futile fantasies. Seven years of watching couples drift in and out of the gallery, seeing the effect beautiful and powerful art had on them, he recognized true emotion when he saw it.
