Author/Uploaded by Strong, Ava
w i t h o u t h o p e (a dakota steele fbi suspense thriller—book 5) a v a s t r o n g 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 CH...
w i t h o u t h o p e (a dakota steele fbi suspense thriller—book 5) a v a s t r o n g 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 PROLOGUE The crowd’s cheers rose above the bustling Renaissance fair. The stands were packed with people, each person eager to witness the jousting tournament. Amidst the cellphones hastily squirreled away, and baseball caps lowered, hoping not to ruin the make-believe atmosphere, flags and banners of all shapes and sizes waved from the royal pavilion, adding to the glorious scene. Harley breathed in quiet puffs, his heart hammering as he prepared for his turn. He stared across the grassy field, listening to the chanting from the tourists and spectators lining the wooden stands. And then, Harley tugged his reins and burst into motion. He'd gone to grad school for computer engineering with a minor in math, but this? This job was far better than any he could've hoped for. The wind blew through his CHAPTER ONE Fifteen years of pain had finally brought Dakota Steele to this door. A break in the case. At least... a lie. Funny things lies. A bus-driver had claimed the wrong schedule. Fifteen years ago, the man who was supposed to pick up Dakota's sister hadn't told the truth. And now... Dakota stepped onto the porch of the retired bus-driver's small two-story house. The exterior of the house was a faded white. Some of the boards on the porch were broken, some of the wood splintering, and the bricks underfoot cracked. Everything told the story of a house slowly being consumed by the elements. The doorknob glistened in the sunlight, its surface smooth and cool to the touch. She had spent the past fifteen years chasing the truth, and finally, her investigation