Best Thriller Suspense Books Novels & Stories

PROLOGUE TATIANA Death smashed into the back of Adrian’s slick Maserati, demanding our lives. My body jerked forward and the seat belt cut into my chest. My heart jumped, racing as fast as my husband’s driving. “What’s going on?” I whimpered frantically as I glanced over my shoulder. The headlights of a black SUV filled the rear window. Smash. My body jerked forward again. “Adrian!” I screamed. “Gun, get a gun.”

10 I CROSS THE room to my bed and kneel down by the safe under the bedside cabinet. I open the safe with a combination provided to me in my T.H.E.M. documentation and pull out a stack of manila envelopes—my case files. The safe, of course, had been sent by T.H.E.M. to the hotel to be placed in my room prior to arrival, and a duplicate safe is in Mary Sue’s room, as well. “You haven’t even looked at those yet, have you,” Mary Sue tisks with annoyance, indicating the envelopes in my hands.

It was a perfect fit. Tara scoped the room for a place to put it. Maggie insisted she keep the book safe. The second-floor den had an enormous bookcase built into the wall. If she placed it on the top shelf it could easily blend in with the array of books of all shapes and sizes that were stuffed, shoved and crammed in rows from floor to ceiling. She felt a little light headed when she stood up. She couldn’t decide if it was from the power emanating from the book she held close to her chest or simply because she stood up too fast. Whatever the reason, she took the time to stand still and wait for her equilibrium to come back before heading off to the den. ****

That would be emotional suicide. I moved away from the romance section quickly, like it might contaminate me somehow. Crime thriller. I'd read a crime thriller. Something with murder and investigations and absolutely zero sexual tension. That was safer. Much safer. I browsed the mystery section and pulled out a book I'd heard good things about. A detective novel set in London. Dark, gritty, complex. Perfect. I carried it to one of the comfortable chairs by the window and settled in. The chair was incredibly comfortable—soft leather that seemed to mold around me. There was a small side table with a reading lamp. A footstool I could put my feet up on.

A new file began downloading against her blocks, labeled simply: *Lena, Final Trigger*. Lena stared at the filename, her face draining of color. Whatever memory IZO44 planned to use against her, it was coming. Outside the cabin, the forest remained unnaturally quiet. The Memory Thief was no longer content to observe. It had begun to steal their souls, one devastating recollection at a time. The cabin fell into a stunned hush after Marcus’s hallucination. He sat on the edge of the cot, elbows on his knees, breathing slowly as Lena knelt in front of him. Her hands remained on his face, thumbs gently brushing away the sweat on his temples.

Leila Johnson thought surviving poverty was the hardest battle she'd ever fight. She was wrong. One night, a routine appointment ends in kidnapping, murder, and a dangerous offer from Chicago's most feared billionaire mafia kingpin, Zane Rogers. All she has to do is help him recover a stolen chip. One mission. One payment. One chance to change her life forever. But the deeper Leila falls into Zane's deadly world, the more she discovers that nobody can be trusted. Not the charming friend who always makes her laugh. Not the beautiful woman who suddenly appears. Not even the powerful man whose touch is becoming harder to resist. As betrayal after betrayal tears

Her deep velvet brown eyes pleaded with me. Guilt slams into me. Hard. The mate bond working its magic, The tether that connects us pulling tighter. But I need answers. I have an Alpha with a dead son breathing down our backs and the body of another werewolf who we still haven’t identified yet. This woman. My supposed mate - is the only person who can give us answers. She's also our main suspect, not just for the theft but for double homicide too. Unless she can prove her innocence.

Only one thing reassures me: it seems that they lose their power at sunrise. I close my last manual, pick up the pile and I put each book back in its place. My hands are trembling dangerously and my heart rate betrays my anxiety. While putting the last book down, I stay an instant with a hand placed on the edge, thinking. Right now, I have to look for another place to live, and it has to be fast!

Furniture overturned, books scattered, and in the centre of the living room, a young woman with copper hair sat bound to a chair, very much alive but gagged with what appeared to be silver silk. "Kayla," Casie breathed, immediately moving forward. "Wait." Nathaniel's hand on her arm stopped her progress. "This is too easy. The Sparrow doesn't leave witnesses." Rick was already scanning the room's corners, his newly enhanced senses picking up details his human eyes might have missed. "There, behind the bookshelf. Someone's hiding."

“Sure. I’m not going to be seeing him—I hope.” I pocketed the ring. “Have you got time to stop by Mother’s? I want to take a look at Martha’s notes.” “An hour.” “Let’s go.” WE SCANNED THE FILES in Martha’s computer that concerned her case, but didn’t find anything new. I noticed, however, that she’d been working recently on a file called “Richard.” Opening it, we found most of the things she and I had talked about since Ashleigh disappeared as well as a few things I knew nothing about. Sydney sat next to me and together we read a clipping about a man named Bob McGillikin who had died in an auto accident back in the 1980s and a man that police were looking for named Dane Bonner.