Missing Lynx
Authors: Fiona Quinn
In Praise of Fiona Quinn
DIANE CAPRI, New York Times and USA Today Bestseller
Not since Alias and Sydney Bristow has a young femme fatale been so engagingly human. Lexi is as sharp, clever, and unpredictable as she is deadly. Fast paced action never stops.
KATE KELLY, USA Today Bestselling Author
Hair-raising action was nicely balanced with slower, tender moments. And the author built a community of characters around the heroine that made Lexi more real to me. Ms. Quinn didn’t miss a beat with The Weakest Lynx.
ALLAN LEVERONE, New York Times and USA Today Bestseller
Smart, sexy, and independent, Lexi Sobado is a thriller hero you will never forget…
ANGEL LIMB - WCVE Community Ideas Station PBS NPR
Quinn’s spare yet illuminating first-person storytelling is perfect. . .
JAMIE MASON, THREE GRAVES FULL and MONDAY'S LIE
(Simon and Schuster)
WEAKEST LYNX'S heroine, Lexi Sobado, is a rare jolt out of formula. She's sweet and sexy, but it's her background and the skill set she's acquired in a glorious tapestry of unusual experiences that lace this ride with smart adrenaline. Treat yourself to something truly fun and different with Fiona Quinn's WEAKEST LYNX!
ALAN ORLOFF - Agatha Award Finalist
I just finished reading a super-fun book, Fiona Quinn’s WEAKEST LYNX, featuring a kick-ass heroine, Lexi Sobado, with a few special abilities to back up her bravado. Snappy writing, great characters, and best of all: there are more books in the series on their way!
JAMIE LEE SCOTT, USA Today Bestselling Author
Quinn's protagonist, Lexi Sobado, is unique, tenacious, and a breath of fresh air for thriller readers.
The Lynx Series
Weakest Lynx
Missing Lynx
Chain Lynx
~
Also,
Mine, a novella
Chaos Is Come Again,
John Dolan and Fiona Quinn
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
MISSING LYNX
Book Two
FIONA QUINN
Dedicated to all those who stand in the way of evil ~
Thank you for your service and your sacrifices
.
One
I
strained against the seat belt, leaning forward with impatience, as if by weight and will I could get us there faster. My fingers drummed anxiously on the car door. I wanted to be at the airport
now;
I had waited more than a year to see my mentor, Spyder McGraw, and hear his rolling thunder laugh.
Striker slid his eyes toward me then refocused on the road. A little smile played across his lips. “You think that screaming like a Hellhound through Washington is going to get Spyder off his plane any faster?”
Striker Rheas took up a lot of space. His silken rusty-brown hair with its tight military cut brushed the roof; his shoulders — powerfully built from his days in Special Ops Forces — spread wide against the seat back. His bearing was always calm, and capable – sometimes too much so. And while I obviously amused
him
right now, he was pissing me off. I answered him with my best withering stare and turned to the window as he drove sedately through the city streets.
The snow outside fell in big light flakes, powdering the trees and cars, making the road shiny and slick. DC traffic was non-existent this morning. Everything had shut down for Christmas.
Striker pulled into Reagan International Airport’s parking deck and set the brake. I narrowed my eyes so he would know not to hedge. “At least give me a hint. What kind of assignment are we going to be working on?”
There it was again, the glimmer of amusement. “I’ve told you everything I’ve got. I’ll be finding out the same time you do.”
“Okay, then where’s Spyder coming in from?”
Striker released his seatbelt and swiveled toward me. “He flew his last leg
from Dallas - DC” He held up his hands. “I swear that’s all the information I know.”
“This is a little surreal.” I pushed a blond curl behind my ear. “One minute I’m starting new classes at the University, and the next you’re handing me my gear to take down some bad-guy. I had a plan.”
“Plans change. Seems serendipitous — Spyder reappearing just as you wanted to head out the door.” He flashed a smile. I loved Striker’s smiles — slightly crooked, hint of dimples, straight white teeth. His smiles started in his warm green eyes where the flecks of gold danced. They disarmed me, but I wanted my armor up.
I arched a brow. “I think perhaps you used more bullying and less serendipity to change my heart. Maybe a little bribery?”
“Incentivizing, Lynx. You wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to serve your country – and, of course, to work with Spyderman.”
I got out of the car. The wind whipped the skirt of my Christmas-red cocktail dress around my legs. I was still dressed from the party last night. After the guests left, Striker surprised me with the news about Spyder coming home. Since my parents had passed away, Spyder took on a bigger role than playing my mentor; he became my other dad. Spyder’s homecoming was the best Christmas gift ever. Well, that and the beautiful gold brooch Striker gave me under the mistletoe – along with the kind of kiss that should end every great romance novel. The kind that promises a happily-ever-after.
I sighed.
Ah, if life were only that simple. I didn’t need a fairytale ending. Right now, I just wanted to regain my balance. And truth be told, Striker wasn’t looking for fairytales, either.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that kiss. Striker
was
his job. He was a highly effective operative dedicated to protecting national security. Everything was secondary. Every
one
was secondary. Would I change that? No. Could I live with it? Hmmm. I tried before with Angel, and that ended about as badly as anything could end. If Striker wanted a relationship with me, he’d want it on his own terms. He hasn’t articulated his parameters to me. Probably because he knew I wouldn’t like them.
I tightened the belt around my short wool coat as Striker walked over to my side. His eyes caught mine. He tilted his head with that assessing look of his. “That’s a curious expression, Lynx. What were you just thinking?”
I smiled up at him. “That the décolleté on this party dress might be a little inappropriate for Christmas morning.”
Striker grinned. “You’re probably right, but I’m not complaining. I think you’re beautiful.” He planted a light kiss at my hair line, entwined his fingers with mine, and we walked toward the terminal.
Even in my heels, Striker’s six-foot-three frame towered above me. His Irish cable knit sweater and pair of 501s accentuated everything a girl could want accentuated. His assets weren’t lost on the woman passing us, pulling her carry-on behind her. She turned to give his rear an appreciative glance, clearly enjoying the view. Pretty tactless — the man was holding my hand, and she didn’t know we weren’t a couple.
In the waiting area, I shed my coat and paced in front of our seats, wringing my hands. Impatience and excitement made me hot and twitchy.
“If you get any warmer, there isn’t much left to shed, Lynx.” Striker stretched out his long legs and slouched back in the hard plastic chair.
“It’s Lexi. I don’t use my call name when I’m off the clock.”
Striker’s eyes moved over my dress. The low cut bodice showed off my full breasts and cinched tight at the waist like a starlet from the fifties. I felt flirtatious and sexy when I danced at the party. The skirt ballooned out as I spun around showing off legs toned from years of running and martial arts.
“What if he’s late? Did you check and make sure he made his flight?” I pulled my hair back into a ponytail to get it out of my face. “I should take another peek at the board, maybe there’s been a delay.”
“That’s fine. You go do that.”
I focused down the hall where the flight board stood. “I can’t.” I plopped down beside him. “My feet hurt too badly.”
“I will never understand why a woman does that to herself.”
“You think my high-heels are sexy, don’t you?” I straightened my leg for him to see.
“Definitely.”
“And that’s why I wear them.” I kicked off my shoes. The cold floor eased the ache. I didn’t care too much about propriety, since we were almost the only people at the airport. “They make my legs long and my butt perky. I like dressing girly and pretty.” Actually, looking young, cute, and approachable made my job a whole lot easier. Being discounted as a piece of fluff let me go places, and do things, that would normally set off alarms.