True Shot

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Authors: Joyce Lamb

BOOK: True Shot
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Table of Contents
 
 
Praise for the novels of Joyce Lamb
TRUE COLORS
“Fast paced and gripping. The story is dark and twisted . . . The romance is sizzling and satisfying. It’s easy to empathize with the characters, and the action makes this a perfect weekend read.”

RT Book Reviews
 
“Will hold you spellbound. [It’s] splashed with just the right amount of romance, [and] you will keep turning the pages to see where the unexpected twists and turns lead next.”

Fresh Fiction
 
 
TRUE VISION
“Lamb knocks it out of the Chicago ballpark with this fast-paced romantic mystery. Combining paranormal elements, a carefully crafted mystery and a powerful romance,
True Vision
has something for everyone. Readers will be looking for the next book in the trilogy as soon as they finish reading this one.”

RT Book Reviews
 
 
COLD MIDNIGHT
“Impossible to put down! A spine-tingling whodunit constantly keeps you on the edge of your seat with scenes that will make your toes curl . . . Joyce Lamb is a highly talented writer who knows how to write a captivating suspense novel.”

Manic Readers
 
“Tension runs high throughout the entire story and the drama is terrific . . . Well crafted and intriguing.”

Huntress Book Reviews
“The interaction and emotion between the characters [are] very entertaining . . . This is a page-turner.”

Night Owl Reviews
(Top Pick)
 
“An enjoyable romantic police procedural.”

Midwest Book Review
 
 
FOUND WANTING
“Top-notch suspense . . . Believable characters in an action-packed plot will enthrall readers. Like Tami Hoag and Iris Johan-sen, Lamb weaves the textures of romance and suspense together in a satisfying read.”

Booklist
 
“This wonderfully written story is a must read for any fan of romantic suspense! Joyce Lamb is a master storyteller . . . Don’t miss out on one of the best novels ever written!”

Romance Junkies
 
“Fast-paced suspense, full of twists and turns and nonstop action . . . To find out the many other fabulous nuances of this story, you’ll just have to go and grab yourself a copy!”
 
 
CAUGHT IN THE ACT
“Page-turning suspense and a rewarding romance make for a riveting read.”

Booklist
 
“Captures readers’ interest from the opening pages.”

Romance Reviews Today
 
“Full of shocking twists and turns . . . A wonderful novel that achieves the perfect balance between the romance and the mystery.”
Berkley Sensation Titles by Joyce Lamb
COLD MIDNIGHT
TRUE VISION
TRUE COLORS
TRUE SHOT
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa
 
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
 
This 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. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
 
TRUE SHOT
 
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
 
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / December 2011
 
Copyright © 2011 by Joyce Lamb.
 
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
 
ISBN : 978-1-101-55242-1
 
BERKLEY SENSATION
®
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY SENSATION
®
is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
 
 
 

http://us.penguingroup.com

For the best critique partners a writer could have:
Diane, Joan, Linda, Maggie, Susan and Lina.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to:
• Grace Morgan, who always looks out for me.
• Wendy McCurdy, a super editor.
• Katherine Pelz, Kayleigh Clark and all the myriad professionals at Berkley, who do some truly top-notch work.
• Julie Snider, whose artistic talent continues to blow me away.
• Mary G., who asks great questions and frequently makes my day.
• My wonderful friends and family, who are unfailingly supportive and enthusiastic despite my “I’m in my head right now” moments and who no longer blink when I say stuff like, “This would make a good murder weapon.”
CHAPTER ONE
Z
oe was dead.
Dead.
Sam closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the throb of pain in her shoulder.
Focus, damn it, she thought. It’s what you’re good at. What you’re trained to do.
Soldier on. Accomplish the mission. Get to the cabin. Hunker down. Hide. Get warm. God, she couldn’t wait to get warm.
Blinking cold rain from her eyes, she squinted into the growing dusk, trying to get oriented. The cabin was around here somewhere. She was sure of it.
Unless she’d gotten herself lost.
No. She wasn’t lost. She knew where she was going.
Just like you knew where you were going when you ran away from home fourteen years ago?
Don’t think. Focus.
She peered through the rain running in rivulets over her forehead and into her eyes. She couldn’t see a damn thing. Just towering trees decorated in gold and orange and red. The same coppery red that spattered her Nikes and the leaves squishing underfoot. Her feet were cold and wet, just like the rest of her. At least she still shivered, the body’s way of creating its own warmth. But she’d been shivering for so long and so hard that she should have generated enough heat to warm a small house. If she didn’t find the cabin soon, she was toast. And not the warm, golden brown kind.
She was probably toast anyway. No way was he going to let her go. He’d hunt her down like an animal. Have her shot down like they’d shot down Zoe—
She battled back the wave of grief that tried to steal her breath and forced herself forward, one foot in front of the other. Don’t think, don’t think.
But she couldn’t help but think.
Zoe was dead. Her closest friend.
Don’t go there, she thought
. Don’t
go there.
Then she saw it. The Trudeau family cabin. Materializing out of a copse of amber gold and dark orange trees. An honest-to-God log cabin.
A rush of much-needed warmth spread through her blood. Almost home. As close to home as she’d gotten in a decade. Wouldn’t it be cool if her sisters and parents waited for her there? Alex and Charlie and Mom and Dad.
She pictured the cozy living room with its stone fireplace and polished wooden floor, the big, overstuffed couch with the red-and-black-plaid blanket draped over the back. She imagined that blanket draped around her shoulders, imagined sinking into the poofy cushions and drifting off, wrapped in the familiarity of home away from home.
She found the key in its place, tucked into a cleverly carved notch three feet up from the planks of the porch. Her half-frozen fingers fumbled with it, missed getting it into the lock the first three tries. Hot tears streamed through the cold rain on her face.
Stupid, so stupid. Crying
now
, after everything that had happened, after so many years of not crying. N3 operatives didn’t cry. N3 operatives carried on.
But Zoe, poor Zoe.
Her hands trembled as she finally nailed the lock and heard the tumblers squeak open. The door swung inward, and she all but tripped over the raised threshold into dust-choked air and a musty odor that didn’t smell at all like the cabin she remembered. Where was the scent of fresh-chopped wood? The hint of fabric softener that spoke of clean sheets on big, soft beds?

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