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  ISOLATION

  Angels of Mercy, Book 4

  CJ Lyons

  Contents

  Praise For CJ Lyons’ Thrillers with Heart:

  CJ Lyons’ Thrillers with Heart:

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  About 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 and not intended by the author.

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  Copyright © 2018 by CJ Lyons

  Edgy Reads

  cover design by: Toni McGee Causey

  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, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  CJ Lyons and Thrillers with Heart registered Trademarks of

  CJ Lyons, LLC

  * * *

  Library of Congress Case # TX0007331544

  Praise For CJ Lyons’ Thrillers with Heart:

  "Everything a great thriller should be—action packed, authentic, and intense." ~#1 New York Times bestselling author Lee Child

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  "A compelling new voice in thriller writing…I love how the characters come alive on every page." ~New York Times bestselling author Jeffery Deaver

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  "Top Pick! A fascinating and intense thriller." ~ RT Book Reviews

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  "An intense, emotional thriller…(that) climbs to the edge of intensity." ~National Examiner

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  "A perfect blend of romance and suspense. My kind of read." ~#1 New York Times Bestselling author Sandra Brown

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  "Highly engaging characters, heart-stopping scenes…one great rollercoaster ride that will not be stopping anytime soon." ~Bookreporter.com

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  "Adrenalin pumping." ~The Mystery Gazette

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  "Riveting." ~Publishers Weekly Beyond Her Book

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  Lyons "is a master within the genre." ~Pittsburgh Magazine

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  "Will leave you breathless and begging for more." ~Romance Novel TV

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  "A great fast-paced read….Not to be missed." ~Book Addict

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  "Breathtakingly fast-paced." ~Publishers Weekly

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  "Simply superb…riveting drama…a perfect ten." ~Romance Reviews Today

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  "Characters with beating hearts and three dimensions." ~Newsday

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  "A pulse-pounding adrenalin rush!" ~Lisa Gardner

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  "Packed with adrenalin." ~David Morrell

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  "…Harrowing, emotional, action-packed and brilliantly realized." ~Susan Wiggs

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  "Explodes on the page…I absolutely could not put it down." ~Romance Readers' Connection

  CJ Lyons’ Thrillers with Heart:

  To download the complete list in PDF click HERE or visit CJLyons.net

  * * *

  LUCY GUARDINO THRILLERS:

  SNAKE SKIN

  BLOOD STAINED

  KILL ZONE

  AFTER SHOCK

  HARD FALL

  BAD BREAK

  LAST LIGHT

  DEVIL SMOKE

  OPEN GRAVE

  GONE DARK

  BITTER TRUTH

  RENEGADE JUSTICE THRILLERS, featuring Morgan Ames:

  FIGHT DIRTY

  RAW EDGES

  ANGELS WEEP

  LOOK AWAY

  TRIP WIRE

  ANGELS OF MERCY MEDICAL SUSPENSE:

  LIFELINES, Angels of Mercy Book #1

  CATALYST, Angels of Mercy Book #2

  TRAUMA, Angels of Mercy Book #3

  ISOLATION, Angels of Mercy Book #4

  FATAL INSOMNIA MEDICAL THRILLERS:

  FAREWELL TO DREAMS

  A RAGING DAWN

  THE SLEEPLESS STARS

  HART AND DRAKE MEDICAL SUSPENSE:

  NERVES OF STEEL

  SLEIGHT OF HAND

  FACE TO FACE

  EYE OF THE STORM

  SHADOW OPS, ROMANTIC THRILLERS:

  CHASING SHADOWS

  LOST IN SHADOWS

  EDGE OF SHADOWS

  CAITLYN TIERNEY FBI THRILLERS:

  BLIND FAITH

  BLACK SHEEP

  HOLLOW BONES

  YOUNG ADULT THRILLERS:

  BROKEN

  WATCHED

  INVISIBLE LIES

  CO-WRITTEN WITH ERIN BROCKOVICH:

  ROCK BOTTOM

  HOT WATER

  SINGLE TITLE STANDALONES:

  LUCIDITY, a Ghost of a Love Story

  BORROWED TIME

  Fall in love with the women of Pittsburgh’s Angels of Mercy’s ER as they save lives, break hearts, and prove that four strong women have the power to change the world!

  LIFELINES, Angels of Mercy Book #1

  CATALYST, Angels of Mercy Book #2

  TRAUMA, Angels of Mercy Book #3

  ISOLATION, Angels of Mercy Book #4

  AND go to https://CJLyons.flexpub.com to download your FREE copy of TOXICITY, an Angels prequel short story.

  1

  Friday, December 31, 6:24 p.m.

  Hiding behind a smile, Dr. Gina Freeman opened the door to her fiancé’s hospital room.

  She watched from the doorway, juggling a bulging garment bag and a tote, assessing the scene before committing to entry.

  It was a typical hospital room, like so many the world over. Until forced to spend the last few weeks at Jerry’s side, she’d never realized just how much the typical hospital room resembled a jail cell.

  There was no privacy. People came and went as they pleased. Except for Jerry, who was expected to be always in the same place until called for.

  Everything was beige: the walls, the floors, the curtains, the food, the view, the smells of floor wax and body odor, even the smiles of the caretakers—at least the ones who hadn’t known Jerry or Gina from before the shooting.

  The smiles of the ones who had, those smiles were tentative, fearful of unraveling the delicate shift in power between Gina and Jerry that was so obvious to everyone except Jerry. Suddenly Gina found h
erself the caretaker, the one making decisions for and about—but seldom with—Jerry.

  She dared a step inside. Jerry sat in his bed, on top of the beige blanket, wearing his Steelers sweatshirt. There was no food on the wall or window, no soft restraints on his wrists to keep him from throwing things, the nurses hadn’t confiscated his “real” clothes or slippers, so it must be a good day. As good as days around here got since the shooting, anyway.

  Normally it would be Jerry, a detective with the Pittsburgh Bureau of Police and consummate people-reader, who would have picked up on these little details, not Gina. But then nothing had been normal, not since a hired killer had almost killed both of them and ended up shooting Jerry in the head.

  Everyone except for Gina seemed to have forgotten that first part, that she’d been targeted too, but she hadn’t—how could she?

  Snuggled alongside Jerry was Deon, the ten-year-old great-grandson of the hospital librarian, Emma Grey. Deon had adopted Jerry for his own a few months ago after they’d first met. Emma sat beside the bed, in the visitor’s chair in front of the window, knitting something bright and colorful and most definitely not beige.

  The windows, opaque with frosted snow and fog from their breaths, reflecting the overhead lights, added to the home-for-the-holidays glow. Deon held a picture book open and was reading aloud from How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

  More like the hit man who stole Christmas, Gina thought. But if Jerry was having a good day, she’d fake some New Year’s cheer. Odds were he wouldn’t remember or realize her efforts, but it was important to keep the peace.

  After working a twelve-hour shift in the ER, she was long past due for some peace. Although the ER had been reasonably quiet for New Year's Eve—except for a deluge of car accidents caused by the arrival of the snow this afternoon. But then things had slowed down for most of her shift as the city waited the plows to work their magic, slow enough that her boss, Mark Cohen, had let her leave a half hour early. He knew she was dividing her time between the ER and Jerry, but as an emergency medicine resident, Gina didn’t have the luxury of being able to take the holiday off.

  The overhead fluorescent lights reflected off the fresh scar tissue crossing from ear to ear over the top of Jerry’s shaved scalp as he nodded in time with Deon’s words, following the little boy’s finger as it traced the words, scrutinizing each letter, searching for a key to hidden treasure.

  If the shooter’s bullet had been a centimeter in any direction . . . Gina shivered away her fear along with the memory of bullets, blood, and her own screams.

  She busied herself hanging up the garment bag, removing her shearling coat and shaking the snow from its shoulders before draping it over the door handle while they finished the story. Jerry didn’t seem to notice the tears streaming down his own cheeks as Deon closed the book. He didn’t notice Gina either.

  “Happy New Year’s!” Gina called out gaily, placing a bottle of sparkling cider on the bedside table.

  “Gina’s here!” Jerry shouted.

  As if he’d never expected to see her again. He always greeted her with the same startled expression whether she’d been gone fifteen seconds or fifteen hours. She couldn’t help but wonder if he totally forgot she existed in between.

  His smile was brilliant, piercing her heart. With joy that he was alive. With fear of what could have been. Heartbreak that in many ways, she had indeed lost him anyway.

  Then he followed with the same greeting he gave every woman who walked into his room: “Where’ve ya been, sunshine?”

  Emma, one of their many friends who’d been helping out since the shooting, bundled up her knitting. “Happy New Year’s, Gina. He’s having a good day today, aren’t you, Jerry?”

  “So I see,” Gina said. “Did he have dinner yet?”

  “He wasn’t hungry and then he took a nap, so no.” Emma straightened the stack of books that lay at the foot of the bed. Mostly children’s picture books. Before the shooting, Jerry had been the one reading to Deon—he’d been reading the boy The Lord of the Rings, censoring out the “gory” bits, although they both knew that Deon was sneaking peeks so as to not miss anything juicy.

  “What happened to the hobbits and orcs and that big, slimy spider?” Gina asked Deon.

  Deon squirmed, then, to Gina’s surprise, hopped down from the bed. He avoided her gaze as if caught in some kind of betrayal.

  “No mood,” Jerry answered her question, using the clipped shorthand that colored his speech now. He reached for the tumbler of water at his side. He made two attempts, missing both times. Deon expertly snagged the glass, adjusted the straw, and held it up to Jerry’s lips in one well-practiced motion.

  Jerry frowned and shook his head, refusing to drink. “Headache. Go ’way.” His speech was as blunt as a two-by-four. He lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes, dismissing them all.

  Deon joined his Gram, taking her hand in his. “He can’t read anymore,” he whispered to Gina, shuffling his feet as he tattled the awful secret. “I miss the old Jerry. He promised to take me hiking, teach me how to use the compass he gave me, show me how to take pictures of the animals and stuff. When is he coming back?”

  Same question Gina had been too terrified to ask herself. She dredged up a new smile, lowered herself to crouch at Deon’s eye level, and offered him the same clichés the neurologists had given her. “It takes time, Deon. Healing takes time. And sometimes,” her words snagged and she had to swallow before finishing, “sometimes people change. But he’ll get better.”

  She stopped short of making a promise she couldn’t keep. Deon pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, too smart to blindly believe. Gina would have applauded his skepticism if she didn’t need so badly to believe herself. She pulled him into a hug, denying the tears she was desperate to shed. He too-quickly squirmed free.

  “Hey, before you go, I found a Christmas present for you.” She’d finally had the energy to face Jerry’s ransacked apartment and, while sorting through the debris, had stumbled across a bag filled with gifts. She hadn’t had the strength to unwrap hers, but no sense not giving Deon his. She handed him the box. Jerry had wrapped it in crime-scene tape—which somehow didn’t seem so funny anymore.

  Deon eyed it with suspicion, hefting it. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. Jerry got it for you.” Gina shoved her hands into the pockets of her cardigan and looked over at the bed. Jerry was now asleep. One of his frequent catnaps that had replaced normal sleep. Sometimes he’d fall asleep in the middle of a sentence only to wake a few minutes later confused and combative, trapped in the memory of fighting for his and Gina’s lives. “It’s okay, he won’t mind if you open it.”

  “Can I, Gram?”

  “Of course. As long as you don’t forget to thank Jerry later.”

  “I won’t.” Deon eagerly shredded the tape, exposing a pocket-sized digital camera. Gina had wanted to get him an iPhone, but Emma had forbid it, deeming him too young to “have his brain rotted.”

  “Wow!” He turned the box around, already immersed in the directions and list of features. “Zoom! Look, Gram!”

  “What do you say?”

  Deon threw his arms around Gina. “Thank you, thank you! It’s the best ever.” His voice dropped into a whisper. “If Jerry doesn’t get better, maybe I can teach him how to take pictures again.”

  “I think he’d like that.” If any part of Old Jerry had survived, it was his artistic vision. The one activity that seemed to calm him was scribbling with crayons and markers, delighting in combining them to create kaleidoscopes of vibrant color.

  “We’d better go before the roads close with the snow,” Emma said with a glance out the window.

  “I heard they were pretty bad. Be careful.” Gina stood, then noticed the Dr. Seuss still clutched in Jerry’s hand as he slept. “Don’t you want your book?”

  Deon didn’t even look back. “Jerry can keep it. He is still my friend.”

  Out of the mouths of ten-yea
r-olds. Gina watched the door close behind them, tried not to envision a prison door clanging shut, trapping her with her beige future.

  She sighed and turned back to the bed, then started. Jerry lay perfectly still with his eyes now open, watching her warily. How much had he heard?

  New Jerry was paranoid when people whispered around him. New Jerry hated being talked about. Hated it more that even when he was a participant in a conversation, half the time he couldn’t remember it five minutes later. And New Jerry really, really hated being reminded of his shortcomings.

  She freshened her smile for him as she rearranged the get-well-soon trinkets and flowers arrayed along the windowsill, simultaneously sliding them all out of reach of his throwing arm. “I’ll get your cane and we can go for a walk.”