Third, Envy (An Alex Quinn Suspense Thriller—Book Three)

By Rylie Dark

Interpol agent Alex Quinn, 29, born to Italian-Turkish parents, is a multi-lingual genius. With an advanced degree in Criminal Psychology from a university in France and a PHD from a Germany university, Alex was recruited by Interpol at the age of 25—their youngest recruit—because of her encyclopedic knowledge of serial killers. But when a string of suspicious bodies are found in Spain during Running With the Bulls, it soon becomes apparent that a killer is using the event to mask his work—and that only Alex can stop him.

“A brilliant book. I couldn’t put it down and I never guessed who the murderer was!”
—Reader review for Only Murder
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THIRD, ENVY is book #3 in a new series by #1 bestselling and critically acclaimed mystery and suspense author Rylie Dark, whose books have received over 2,000 five-star reviews and ratings.

With killers preying in high-trafficked historic sites, Interpol convenes a special task force to hunt them down before panic spreads—and finds no one better to head up this new force than Alex Quinn.

Beautiful in an exotic way, with a mixture of her Mediterranean heritage, Alex, with her olive complexion and startling green eyes, bears a pencil thin scar along one hand from the palm to the tip of a finger—a scar that keeps her single-mindedly focused on avenging her parents.

Able to solve cases in record time, Alex has been all over Europe for nearly a decade. Yet one killer still eludes her.

The man who killed her parents.

The darkness of past propels her—yet it also threatens to swallow her whole…

A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured Interpol agent, the Alex Quinn series is a riveting mystery, a cat-and-mouse thriller packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.
More books in the series are also available!

“I loved this thriller, read it in one sitting. Lots of twists and turns and I didn’t guess the
culprit at all… Already pre-ordered the second!”
—Reader review for Only Murder
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“This book takes off with a bang… An excellent read, and I'm looking forward to the next book!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
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“Fantastic book! It was hard to put down. I can’t wait to see what happens next!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
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“The twists and turns kept coming. Can't wait to read the next book!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“A must-read if you enjoy action-packed stories with good plots!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“I really like this author and this series starts with a bang. It will keep you turning the pages till the end of the book and wanting more.”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“I can't say enough about this author! How about ‘out of this world’! This author is going to go far!”
—Reader review for ONLY MURDER
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“I really enjoyed this book… The characters were alive, and the twists and turns were great. It will keep you reading till the end and leave you wanting more.”
—Reader review for NO WAY OUT
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“This is an author that I highly recommend. Her books will have you begging for more.”
—Reader review for NO WAY OUT
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• Language: English
• Publisher: Rylie Dark
• Release date: Aug 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094381565

Book preview

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T H I R D,   E N V Y

(An Alex Quinn Mystery—Book 3)

R y l i e   D a r k

Rylie Dark

Bestselling author Rylie Dark is author of the SADIE PRICE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the CARLY SEE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the MIA NORTH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); of the MORGAN STARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books; of the HAILEY ROCK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); of the TARA STRONG MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the ALEX QUINN FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); of the MAEVE SHARP FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books (and counting); and of the KELLY CRUZ MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Rylie loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.ryliedark.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2023 by Rylie Dark. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Egor Mayer, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY RYLIE DARK

KELLY CRUZ MYSTERY

WHERE YOU GO (Book #1)

WHERE YOU HIDE (Book #2)

WHERE YOU SLEEP (Book #3)

WHERE YOU RUN (Book #4)

WHERE YOU FEAR (Book #5)

MAEVE SHARP FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

WITH MALICE (Book #1)

WITH ENVY (Book #2)

WITH VENGEANCE (Book #3)

WITH RAGE (Book #4)

WITH YOU (Book #5)

ALEX QUINN SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIRST, MURDER (Book #1)

SECOND, DEATH (Book #2)

THIRD, ENVY (Book #3)

FOURTH, LUST (Book #4)

FIFTH, WRATH (Book #5)

TARA STRONG MYSTERY

GIRL WITHOUT A CHANCE (Book #1)

GIRL WITHOUT A HOME (Book #2)

GIRL WITHOUT A TRACE (Book #3)

GIRL WITHOUT A NAME (Book #4)

GIRL WITHOUT A PRAYER (Book #5)

HAILEY ROCK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

BEHIND YOU (Book #1)

BESIDE YOU (Book #2)

AFTER YOU (Book #3)

WATCHING YOU (Book #4)

JUDGING YOU (Book #5)

SADIE PRICE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

ONLY MURDER (Book #1)

ONLY RAGE (Book #2)

ONLY HIS (Book #3)

ONLY ONCE (Book #4)

ONLY SPITE (Book #5)

ONLY MADNESS (Book #6)

MIA NORTH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SEE HER RUN (Book #1)

SEE HER HIDE (Book #2)

SEE HER SCREAM (Book #3)

SEE HER VANISH (Book #4)

SEE HER GONE (Book #5)

SEE HER DEAD (Book #6)

CARLY SEE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NO WAY OUT (Book #1)

NO WAY BACK (Book #2)

NO WAY HOME (Book #3)

NO WAY LEFT (Book #4)

NO WAY UP (Book #5)

NO WAY TO DIE (Book #6)

MORGAN STARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

TOO LATE (Book #1)

TOO CLOSE (Book #2)

TOO FAR GONE (Book #3)

TOO LOST (Book #4)

TOO BROKEN (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Joab de Serra’s eyes were wide, electrified by fear.

His heart pounded brutally in his chest, his blood coursing loudly against his eardrums like a relentless tide against the seawall. His hair was tied back in a tight black knot on the back of his head, cinched nearly as tight as the laces of his Puma running shoes. Every muscle in his body was tensed, waiting for the moment to come, waiting to explode into furious motion.

Waiting to run for his life.

The blood-orange expanse of the Pamplona sunrise was already streaked by the smoky entrails of the first rocket. In the dense crowd, Joab heard the whisper pass around, zinging between the young athletes like signals down a tightly strung wire.

¡Los toros! ¡Vienen en camino! ¡Vienen los toros!

The bulls are coming!

The air around him was alive, an energetic frenzy of anticipation, fear, sweat, and adrenaline. His thoughts raced through his head at breakneck speed, a premonition of the raging stampede that was on the way.

This is it, Joab, old friend. There's no turning back now. You chose this challenge for yourself. You don't have to make it all the way through the course – but you can't quit before you see the bulls, either. You were built for this. Your father ran with the bulls. His father ran with the bulls. It's in the blood of the De Serra men to run harder than the others, be swifter among the pack, and be bolder before the goring points of the bull's horns.

His muscles quivered, already burning with the sharp, acidic tingle of hard exercise. The sweat on his forehead dripped, fell, and splattered on the historic cobblestones.

These are your streets because they were your father’s, his father’s, and his father’s again. Six fighting bulls will charge, but you must not let them own our streets.

Joab nodded with determination just as the second rocket jumped up from the bullpen to break over the city skyline in a colorful announcement of thundering terror. All the bulls were now on the streets, running like mad through the course, a chaotic tidal wave of clattering hooves, hot breath, straining muscle, and deadly horns.

He could hear them now, a distant echo that grew into a roar, accompanied by the shouts and cheers from the spectating crowd. "¡Viva los toros! ¡Olé!"

The dense pack of bodies started to move around him – slowly at first, with jolting, uncertain movements. Joab looked over his shoulder, craning his neck to peer through the hundreds of heads.

For an instant, time seemed to pass in slow motion. The dust that swirled in the faint Spanish breeze hung immobile, and his heart froze between beats.

The first bull was rounding the corner.

The cry rose up all around him, yanking Joab out of the dreamlike moment of paralysis.

¡Los toros están aquí! Vamos! !Muevete!

All at once, the force of the pushing crowd propelled Joab into motion. His feet beat against the dusty cobblestones, his hands pushed the body in front of him just as the desperate hands pushed him from behind, and just like that, they were all in joyously fearful motion.

They gained space, the runners separating from each other as they picked up speed. Joab’s legs moved in accordance with the communal rhythm, in time with his heart and his breathing. His thoughts repeated the mantra of his father and grandfathers.

Corre, muchacho. Run, boy, run.

He took the corners of the course, the streets, and walkways he knew by heart. Directionally he was on autopilot, running the memorized map of the course. All his conscious energy was focused on one objective: to outrun the bulls.

It took every fiber of his determination for Joab not to look over his shoulder. He knew what he would see if he did.

First, there would be the blurry impression of violent mass – the muscular bulk of the leading bull.

Then there would be the tremendous, earth-quaking force of the five fighting bulls behind him.

Only if he focused hard on looking back would the lethal points of the horns come into view.

It was better just to run.

¡Corre, Mijo! ¡Corre!

People were diving out of the way left and right – giving up the race either from fear or exhaustion. The bulls were still well behind them. Joab grinned – or, rather, grimaced through his heaving, ragged breaths. The tourist athletes rolling and tumbling out of the way only needed to enter the run to fulfill their obligation. They could go home to their respective countries and continents and recount the harrowing glories of partaking in the historic Running of the Bulls, their honor untarnished, no matter how early they rolled free from the deadly path of the hooves and horns. He, however, raced for older contenders who were less easily impressed.

His feet, steadfast upon the road he knew so well, pushed him forward with practiced ease. It wasn’t a matter of sheer speed. As anybody knew, the most experienced runners would pace themselves as near the bulls as possible for as long as possible. If he was going to make a name for himself among the real runners, Joab knew he would have to pace himself against the prongs for as long as he could withstand.

¡Corre, Mijo. ¡Corre rapido por tu padres!

That was when he tripped.

The fall seemed to last eternities, although he must have chinned the ground less than a second after losing his balance. He had time, on the slow arc down, to recognize that the object over which he’d tripped had the distinct, fleshy quality of a human torso. Somebody had flubbed their role, a deadly mistake on its own, but in so doing, had damned him before his due.

Joab hit the ground. Every ounce of wind left his body in a colossal oof. He rolled for his life.

His head knocked against the person over whom he’d tripped. With an irritation that mounted upon rage, Joab reared up to curse at the fool in full force. His eyes focused on the face of the other man on the ground.

The other man’s eyes were glazed over with a milky white film. His mouth hung open. A nasty gash slit his throat from his left shoulder to his right ear.

Joab let out a horrified scream as realization set in upon him.

The man he’d tripped over was dead, his throat torn by the goring horns of the bulls. The unfortunate soul must have been caught on the points, tossed out ahead of the charge, bucked like a lifeless haybale to land – thud – in Joab’s path.

The moment of truth had arrived. If he didn’t act now, he would be gored to death, left as trampled and lifeless as the face in front of his own.

Dios te salve, Maria, Llena eres de gracia, el Senor es contigo – Joab silently prayed the Ave Maria in his own anticipated moment of death, tucked his arms close to his chest, and rolled for all he was worth.

The ground shook below him as the bulls charged ever closer. The quaking stones rattled his jaw like a jackhammer, blurring his vision into oblivion.

He could see the feet of the observers, if only briefly, as he rolled toward safety. He remembered a particularly ragged set of shoes, the left sole worn almost through, with pale, skinny legs sticking out of them, and then something as hard as a bull’s hoof struck him in the temple.

The world exploded like a final rocket in his mind, then all was perfectly black.

CHAPTER ONE

Dr. Alexandria Quinn stared at her own reflection in the black surface of her coffee. The scowl on her face was as bitter as the brew.

So, you see, it’s really all my fault, Lexi’s sister Izel was saying from across the little round café table. Lexi looked up, blinking at the figure of her sister against the background of the busy Parisian restaurant.

The two Quinn women, only a few years apart in age, were almost mirrorlike in their similarity. Both had smooth, caramel features, dark hair, and deep, insightful brown eyes. They were slender and graceful, both in appearance and speech, almost shadowlike in their innate subtlety.

One sister was as unreadable as the other.

A long, silent moment passed between them, filled in by the ambient noise of quickly jabbering Parisians.

You’ve got to be kidding, Lexi said, breaking the staring contest to make a grab for the small jug of cream on the table between them. She poured a thin white stream into her coffee, stirring the mixture into a smooth café au lait. When she looked up, Izel’s expression was a combination of surprise and offense. Lexi stared coolly back.

What – what do you mean? Izel stammered, clearly rattled by Lexi’s altogether lack of reaction.

I mean, it's not your fault, Lexi replied, withdrawing her spoon from the coffee and holding it carefully over the porcelain mug. A heavy droplet formed on the end of the round spoon and fell with a plop back into the steaming coffee. Lexi watched the ripples spread through the light brown beverage to lap against the rim of the cup.

A single drop can affect everything from the center to the perimeter.

She looked up at Izel once again, and Lexi was slightly taken aback to see tears in Izel’s eyes.

What’s the matter? she asked.

Don’t you care? Izel asked, her voice rising with emotion. Mama and Papa were murdered, and you hardly seem interested. What the hell is wrong with you?

Lexi sucked in her cheeks deeply, thinking about how to answer. How could she tell her sister that nearly a decade of service with Interpol’s Global Policing Division had hardened her sensitivities? She’d pursued dangerous murders through deadly labyrinths, grilled hardened criminals in dark sweat rooms, and fought for her life against deranged psychopaths. Her sister’s survivor’s guilt, while pitiable, didn’t shatter her world.

Well? Izel demanded hotly, not caring in the slightest that everybody in the café was now staring at them. Do you care that our parents are dead because of me or not?

Izel, Lexi snapped, momentarily taking up the severed, clamp-jawed tone that used to keep her sister in line when they were schoolkids in Italy, "Abbassa la voce, cazzo – keep your voice down! The walls have ears."

Izel looked around as if remembering for the first time that the people around them were living things. The awkward silence of the café was immediately replaced by an even more awkward murmur of resumed conversation. She looked back with a tortured expression at her sister, her eyes pleading for a reprieve from the burden she’d carried so long.

Come on, Lexi said, digging a wad of paper Euros out of her wallet to leave on the table and giving the nervous waiter an apologetic nod, "Let’s get out of here and talk this out along the Sienne. Nietzsche said walking is good for the mind. Andiamo."

Don’t you think anything of the story I just told you? Izel insisted as they left the café. Lexi pursed her lips, guiding her and Izel down the stairs toward the waterfront. Lexi gazed silently at her sister for a moment, wondering how to reply.

It had been a long time since she’d seen her sister, a long time since they’d really spoken. After the grisly murder of their parents, the girls fled from each other and themselves. Lexi had thrown herself into her studies, ultimately putting them to use as a serial homicide investigator.

Izel was a genius of her own kind, but Lexi still wasn’t sure exactly what kind that was. She knew her sister had gotten mixed