Product Description

Stolen Indian artifacts…A murdered museum guard…A missing woman…A baby in danger…

Only Desiree can unearth the horrifying secret that links them all.

Museum security expert Desiree Jacobs doesn’t mean to get in danger’s path. Really she doesn’t. But when a friend is in trouble you don’t just walk away. No matter what your overprotective FBI agent boyfriend says! So when Desi and Tony’s date at a presidential ball is interrupted by a frantic Maxine Webb, Desi doesn’t hesitate to jump in.

Soon Desi is neck-deep in a confusing array of villains. Did Max’s niece run away or was she taken? Is she still alive or the victim of a perverse ritual? And who wants her infant son–and why?

Then Tony’s organized crime case collides with Desi’s investigation, throwing them both into the path of something dark and sinister. Something that craves blood…

From the streets of Desi’s beloved Boston to the mountain desert of New Mexico, Desi and Tony must rely on God to thwart unseen forces–and save a young woman and her baby from a villain more evil than any of them can imagine.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #357378 in Books
• Published on: 2007-03-20
• Released on: 2007-03-20
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 352 pages

Review
“Nonstop action, danger, and a romance with the tension of a walk on a high wire. You’re in for a wild ride with this story!”
- Lorena McCourtney, author of the Ivy Malone Mystery series

“A fresh voice, strong heroine, and unique plot make Reluctant Runaway a can’t-put-down read. Jill Elizabeth Nelson is an author to watch in the realm of romantic suspense!”
- Susan May Warren, award-winning author of In Sheep’s Clothing

About the Author
Jill Elizabeth Nelson takes art seriously–when she’s not having fun with it, that is. The To Catch a Thief series combines her love of the written word with her love of other art forms. She’s thrilled if the adventures that spill from her imagination can raise awareness about art theft–deemed “a looming criminal enterprise” by the FBI. Jill and her husband, Doug, have four children and live in Minnesota.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
September night pressed in on Desiree Jacobs like an urgent warning. She shrugged the unease away. Flexing rubber-soled feet, she fixed her gaze on the brick wall half a dozen yards ahead. Under her Mylar jumpsuit, sweat trickled down her ribs.

E-e-easy. This little jaunt was no different than a trip across the balance beam at the gym, a move she’d practiced for twenty-two of her thirty years. Except no thick mat waited a few feet away to soften a fall. Only ten stories of empty air. A single misstep off the steel girder and she’d make a nice Impressionist splat on the pavement of the alley below.

Then Max can attend another funeral.

Desi sighed. All right, girlfriend, you win. Bungee cord it is. She took a step backward onto the roof behind her. Amazing how easy it had been to get into this co-op apartment building next to the exclusive Tate Art Gallery of Washington DC. Delivering pizzas opened doors fast. Must be the hypnotic smell of sausage and pepperoni.

Desi knelt beside her discarded delivery uniform. She stripped off her backpack, then pulled out the bungee cord and clipped an end to the harness around her torso. The other end went around a pipe sticking out of the roof.

Lifting her arms, Desi stepped back onto the beam. Just try to keep her away from that American artist collection. She took a step, then one more, toes outward, heel to instep. And this step is for the Cassatt. She moved forward. And this one for the Savage. And this one for Grandma Moses. She hopped and switched foot positions. Expect me soon, Andy Warhol.

At midbeam she stopped and looked up at the sky. One plump star winked at her. If Tony could see her, he’d have a cow. She winked back at the star. What an overprotective FBI agent boyfriend didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Desi adjusted the backpack straps around her shoulders. She quick-stepped forward, one step back, then a trio of toe-steps forward. And those were for the three Georgia O’Keeffe’s. I’m coming, darlings.

The tenth-story ledge of the Tate Gallery building loomed close. She smelled the brick cooling from the heat of the Indian summer day.

Almost there. Almost…Yesss!

Her breath came strong and even. She knelt on the two-foot ledge and glanced back at the wide-open space she’d conquered. The girder formed the only remaining connection between buildings that once shared a roof support system. A handy choice of approach under cover of night.

She shrugged out of her pack and unhooked the bungee cord. Good riddance.

By feel, Desi located her narrow-beam flashlight and trained the glow on the window in front of her. The pane was an unimpressive standard thickness, and the wood frame showed weather wear. Desi kneaded gloved fingers together.

Where were the booby traps?

Her gaze stopped on a slim white sensor strip across the inside of the sash. Even a trained eye could miss that one. Any tampering with the frame, and alarms would shriek loud enough to startle a poor unsuspecting burglar right off the ledge.

Desi gulped and peered downward. The ground was there, in the blank darkness, hard and unforgiving. Cold sparks skittered up her spine.

She stiffened her jaw. No way was that a premonition. She pursed her lips at the window. What about cutting the pane? Nope. A web of hair-fine wire covered the glass, not obstructing the view of the drab roof opposite, but any slice would end in handcuffs for the window surgeon. Nuh-uh! She didn’t need those bracelets.

Time to find another way in. And in a hurry. Tony would snort and paw if she wasn’t ready on time for the White House Midnight Masquerade. Besides, she couldn’t afford to give him explanations.

Rising, she hefted the pack in her right hand and pressed the left side of her body against the building. She swept the flashlight beam ahead of her on the ledge. All clear. She lifted her foot and then halted midmotion. Indrawn breath hissed between her teeth.

Idiot!

Planting her foot back where it started, she panned the light up the wall. Sure enough. Stubby plastic-coated sensor rods stuck out from the brick at irregular intervals–no slipping around, between, or under these babies. A broken rod or an attempt to remove one from its socket released an ultrasonic frequency that tripped an alarm, and voilà, one bagged burglar.

So where did that leave her? She frowned. With a sackful of goodies and no place to go, except…

She looked down and smiled.

Chuckling, Desi set a grappling hook in the chink between the ledge and the window and then clipped the end of the rope to her torso harness. Lying on her stomach, she turned and flipped her feet into open space. She balanced on the rim of the ledge, abdomen muscles and extended arms bearing her weight as if she were about to start a routine on the uneven bars. The bottoms of her feet sought and found the wall below.

Blood pumping, she pushed away from the ledge. The tether flowed with steady friction through her gloved fists. Piece of cake. Just a few smooth hops and–

Cra-a-ack!

Desi’s line jerked. Bits of debris bounced off her head and shoulders. Her feet lost purchase. In free swing, her body rammed the wall, spurting a grunt from her throat. Pain shot through her shoulders and hips. She dug her fingers and toes into the chinks between the bricks and went still–except for her heart, which threatened to backflip right out of her chest.

Below, muted smacks taunted her ears–cement chunks bursting against pavement. Her imagination went into overdrive, picturing the landing should her body take a similar dive.

Stop it! Think. You can beat this.

A portion of the ledge above had given way. The stress of the hook and her weight must have been too much for the aged cement. Thank goodness the ledge hadn’t crumbled beneath her while she knelt by the window.

Now, any wrong movement…

She sucked in a breath. She needed a better hold on the brick. Reluctant to disturb so much as an air molecule, she slid a finger over…another…another. Oops!

A toe slipped. Her weight shifted. She jammed the foot back in tight, gritting her teeth against a yelp. Her big toe had felt better after a collision with the bedpost in the dark.

Snap! Scra-a-a-ape…

The tether line went limp. Desi held her breath.

The grappling hook remained aloft, but the sounds from above indicated that it must have pulled free and now rested, without anchor, on what was left of the crumbling ledge. If the hook plunged downward, the weight would pull Desi from her precarious hold on the brick.

Great! Where’s an angel when you need one?

Rotten cement on the ledges hadn’t figured into her calculations. That was the two-edged sword when owners insisted on locating art galleries in charming but antiquated facilities, which left them vulnerable to intruders but created unintended death traps for thieves.

Trust.

Okay, that thought hadn’t come from her mind, but it was right. Time to stop relying on her own resources. Hadn’t the past months taught her a thing? All right, I’m busted, Lord. Again. What’s our next move?

No angelic chorus answered her plea with divine instructions. Desi sighed. Her breath fanned the brick in shaky drafts. Her cheek stung, pressed against the rough surface. Her fingers started to cramp, and her leg muscles ached. She couldn’t hang on much longer.

Should she try to climb up toward a ledge that she knew was brittle and crumbling or risk moving down toward the lip at the next floor, its condition an unknown quantity? The latter option could pull the grappling hook off the ledge above before she reached the doubtful security of the next level, and she’d join the smashed pieces on the ground.

Let go.

Of all the kooky ideas… Wait…maybe…

Desi licked her lips, mouth as dry as the cement flakes that powdered her shoulder.

All right, what if she let go and performed a calculated fall onto the next ledge? She would need to hit leaning into the building. The impact might breach the cement if its condition was as unstable as the ledge above. Then again, the lip might hold her, and she’d be in a firm position when–not if–the grappling hook tumbled from above. Was the lower ledge strong enough to withstand the impact of her falling body? God knew.

Okay, Lord, I have to trust Your wisdom. Here goes!

Desi released her hold and left her stomach behind. Terror clawed up her throat and came out in a strangled gurgle.

The impact shuddered through her bones. She folded her knees forward, throwing her body sideways. Air woofed from her lungs. Cement fragments pelted her from overhead just as the grappling hook plummeted toward her then past into the darkness. Her harness jerked, tugging her toward the edge of her perch. She came to a halt with one shoulder hovering over thin air.

Clink…clink…clink…clink…clink…

The sound of the metal hook bouncing off the building ticked off seconds. Desi’s brain fought to regain focus. Thank You, Abba Father! She lay where she had landed and enjoyed each breath. A giddy laugh bubbled from her throat.

Next move? Get her scraped and sore self inside, alarm or no alarm. Well, better without the alarm. Now that she’d risked this much, she ought to taste the victory, even if she was starring in this little caper as a bad guy who ought to lose.

Desi sat up. A few feet away a window beckoned, and really, she couldn’t have fallen more than a few feet. Things often weren’t as terrib...

Customer Reviews

Enjoyable AND sharp.
In her novels Jill Nelson has a way of simplifying some of the most prickly issues Christians face today. One of my favorite scenes in her latest novel, The Reluctant Runaway, involves the heroine, Desiree Jacobs and her Native American kidnapper, Pete Cheama, a member of the Zuni tribe. Pete has made plenty of bad choices in his life, and he ultimately blames his mistakes on Christians, whose system "was forced upon [his] people centuries ago and has made [their] spirits weak and [their] minds confused." No Christian wants to feel her faith has weakened or confused anyone, so sometimes we refrain from even discussing Christianity. But Desiree merely responds, "Jesus is not an oppressor." Right there, concisely--the difference between true Christianity and any faith that demands, rather than invites.

Nelson's novel is a fun read, with plenty of suspense and action (and some clever romance, to boot). You could enjoy the entire reading experience without stopping to focus on the choice tidbits about faith with which she occasionally peppers the story. But those tidbits deepen the novel and make it stay with you well after you finish the last page. I'd recommend Reluctant Runaway for teen-through-adult readers.

Another gripping tale by Jill Nelson
In this engaging sequel to Reluctant Burglar, museum security expert Desiree Jacobs, once again becomes drawn into a mystery when Max's niece goes missing. Could her disappearance have anything to do with Tony's organized crime case? As their romance heats up, so does the trail that leads to stolen artifacts, leading them both to the New Mexico dessert. They must learn to trust God, not only with their surmounting dangers, but with their romance. Is it possible that this new religious cult, is at the center of these mysteries?
As in Reluctant Burglar, Jill Nelson has once again masterfully weaved a tale of suspense and drama while demonstrating the power of faith to overcome the worst of our fears and obstacles. As the romance develops between Desiree and Tony, an FBI agent, the reader is shown the hand of God in even this, our most intimate of human relationships. Is it possible for these two, an over-protective cop and an independent, sometimes risk-taker security expert, to find a peaceful coexistence in which their love can blossom?
Although the plot can be read independently from the book's forerunner, Reluctant Runaway, has achieved the best of sequel writing. Not only has the author improved on her story telling techniques, but has added depth and challenge to an all-ready intriguing story. Very enjoyable read.

Don't "Runaway" from this book! =)
Okay, cheesy title for this review, I know - but guys, this was a super fun read! I liked it even better than the first in this series, and I didn't think that would happen! Jill Nelson has somehow managed to create a book that is at the same time fun and serious, intense and light, funny and shocking...what a combo! My favorite part of Jill's books are by far the characters - so realistic. They crack me up, yet two pages later, they have me tearing up.

Job well done, Jill.

As for the rest of you - check out this series ASAP! You won't regret it!