Thrillers & Suspense
![Karen Cleveland - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_karen_cleveland.jpg)
You Can Run: A Novel
A CIA analyst makes a split-second decision that endangers her country but saves her son-and now she must team up with an investigative journalist she's not sure she can trust in this electrifying thriller from the New York Times bestselling author of Need to Know.
"[A] turbo-charged thriller [with] a final mind-blowing twist."-People
We have your son. It's the call that's every parent's nightmare. And for CIA analyst Jill Bailey, it's the call that changes everything.
It's Jill's job to vet new CIA sources. Like Falcon, who's been on the recruitment fast track. But before she can get to work, Jill gets the call. Her son has been taken. And to get him back, Jill does something she thought she'd never do.
Alex Charles, a hard-hitting journalist, begins to investigate an anonymous tip: an explosive claim about the CIA's hottest new source. This is the story that Alex has been waiting for. The tip-and a fierce determination to find the truth-leads Alex to Jill, who would rather remain hidden.
As the two begin to work together, they uncover a vast conspiracy that will force them to confront their loyalties to family and country. An edge-of-your-seat thriller, You Can Run will have you asking: What would you do to save the ones you love?
"[A] turbo-charged thriller [with] a final mind-blowing twist."-People
We have your son. It's the call that's every parent's nightmare. And for CIA analyst Jill Bailey, it's the call that changes everything.
It's Jill's job to vet new CIA sources. Like Falcon, who's been on the recruitment fast track. But before she can get to work, Jill gets the call. Her son has been taken. And to get him back, Jill does something she thought she'd never do.
Alex Charles, a hard-hitting journalist, begins to investigate an anonymous tip: an explosive claim about the CIA's hottest new source. This is the story that Alex has been waiting for. The tip-and a fierce determination to find the truth-leads Alex to Jill, who would rather remain hidden.
As the two begin to work together, they uncover a vast conspiracy that will force them to confront their loyalties to family and country. An edge-of-your-seat thriller, You Can Run will have you asking: What would you do to save the ones you love?
Editorial Reviews
"Kidnappers will kill her son if the CIA's Jill Bailey doesn't rubber-stamp an unvetted Syrian source. A Pulitzer-chasing journalist joins the action in this turbo-charged thriller, and the pair grapple with motherhood, ambition, and bad guys-before a final mind-blowing twist."-People
"Two strong, resilient women working together to save the world? Yes please."-Kirkus Reviews
"Fast-paced, tense, and downright scary . . . There's a lot to like here: the characters are robust, the story is well constructed, the dialogue zings along, and there is that strong sense of verisimilitude that you often find when an expert writes passionately about his or her own field."-Booklist
"Cleveland weaves technology, motherhood, and spydom's skullduggery into a taut, alluring web. Acclaimed for fiendishly clever plotting, she whips up the story to a breakneck pace, then rewards readers with a knockout ending. Fans of Stella Rimington's series about MI5 agent Liz Carlyle will thrill to the steely grit and brave hearts of Jill and Alex."-Library Journal
"[Karen] Cleveland plunges the reader into a terrifying world of shifting alliances, action, and intrigue. Fans of strong, decisive female characters will find much to like."-Publishers Weekly
"Two strong, resilient women working together to save the world? Yes please."-Kirkus Reviews
"Fast-paced, tense, and downright scary . . . There's a lot to like here: the characters are robust, the story is well constructed, the dialogue zings along, and there is that strong sense of verisimilitude that you often find when an expert writes passionately about his or her own field."-Booklist
"Cleveland weaves technology, motherhood, and spydom's skullduggery into a taut, alluring web. Acclaimed for fiendishly clever plotting, she whips up the story to a breakneck pace, then rewards readers with a knockout ending. Fans of Stella Rimington's series about MI5 agent Liz Carlyle will thrill to the steely grit and brave hearts of Jill and Alex."-Library Journal
"[Karen] Cleveland plunges the reader into a terrifying world of shifting alliances, action, and intrigue. Fans of strong, decisive female characters will find much to like."-Publishers Weekly
Readers Top Reviews
Anne CusackB
Loved this book. A real page turner, full of suspense.
RubbersoulmateAnn
Good page turner that presents a good last few pages turn from what you expected. I liked the spy games.
G HenryRubbersoul
The shipping, price, everything was good. I was just slightly disappointed by the ending. It IS a good read as are all her books.
Karen ParisNeeCee
The book started out well, and grabbed my attention immediately….but it got way too confusing and I kinda wasn’t sure who to root for anymore. I actually didn’t even care what happened, so quit after about 200 pages. I’ve adored her other two books, this one missed the mark for me.
BluebirdCoton-Ent
Cookbook approach,almost run on sentences,similar to book one,Tired Mom ,career vs kids ,mundane family life ..old story . Despite being a "fictional book" the most troubling theme that emerges is that the "winner " in the end of each book is always our enemy. Spoiler Alert !
Short Excerpt Teaser
CHAPTER ONE
The clock in the corner of my screen reads 10:59 a.m. I stare at the digits, willing them to change, and for time to pass a little bit quicker. The minutes just after eleven will pass at warp speed; they always do. But the ones before are endless, interminable.
A muted chime dings, the familiar sound of a new cable hitting my queue. My gaze shifts from the clock in the corner to the browser window, open to the cable-tracking system, Fortress. A list of cables arrayed like an email inbox, the new one at the top, in bold type.
From Damascus Station. Request for Encryption of New Source, FALCON.
I knew the cable was coming, just didn't know it'd be today. It's a quick recruitment, for sure. But this guy, the one we're now calling Falcon, he's been on the fast track since day one, no doubt about that. He's set to be the CIA's newest source, once I vet him and send the cable up the chain. Something I'll start working on in exactly thirty-one minutes.
I shift my gaze back down to the clock just in time to see it hit 11:00.
Control-Alt-Delete. The cable system disappears, replaced with a small version of the Agency seal set against a black background. I catch sight of my reflection in the screen, and it catches me off guard, how little it looks like me. Hair in desperate need of a cut-and a style. Dark circles that no amount of makeup or coffee can fade.
Not the way I always imagined I'd look at this point in my life, for sure. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. It took three years of hopes and tears and injections-and all our savings-to get here.
"Eleven o'clock already?" Jeremy asks from the cubicle across from mine, right on cue. Same question every day. Creatures of habit, both of us.
I stand and grab my tote bag, sling it over my arm. "Sure is."
"Enjoy your lunch, Jill." He smiles awkwardly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. From anyone else it might seem like a dig, a why-on-earth-are-you-taking-a-lunch-break-at-eleven, but not from Jeremy. From him it's just conversation.
Besides, eleven's lunchtime, no doubt about it. Four hours of work, half-hour lunch, four more hours until the end of the day. The perfect midpoint. And more importantly, the thirty-minute window during which I'm guaranteed to catch sight of Owen. After his morning nap, before the afternoon one. Eleven's the scheduled time for his second bottle of the day, and now a container of pureed veggies, too.
If you'd have told me six months ago I'd see a cable like that in my queue and skip out at precisely eleven to watch an infant eat mashed peas, I'd have laughed. A baby won't change anything, I'd have said. Turns out, he changed everything.
Fact of the matter is, this is the kind of cable a reports officer like me lives for. The chance to vet a source like Falcon, at a time like this.
He's a Syrian defense official attached to a covert biowarfare program, working deep in one of our darkest of black holes. And biowarfare's the new hot topic, like terrorism after 9/11. We've seen the fear a pandemic sows, the hit it takes on an economy.
Our adversaries have seen it, too. And quite frankly, that terrifies us.
By all accounts, everyone's ramping up their biowarfare programs. But penetrations of these covert programs are sorely lacking. And we at the CIA are desperate for sources.
A. J. Graham's the one who's behind this recruitment. Our best case officer in Damascus. It's my job to double-check his work, make sure he didn't miss anything, that he hasn't been compromised, blackmailed. I'm a trained case officer myself, but I traded life in the field for a desk at headquarters when Drew and I learned we'd have to start IVF.
I wade through the sea of cubicles and out of the windowless vault, with its stark, bare walls and too-bright fluorescent lighting. Down the narrow hall now, my pace quick, and up two flights of stairs to ground level. I badge out through an electronic turnstile, passing the host of armed guards. Into the lobby, then out into the sunshine.
<...
The clock in the corner of my screen reads 10:59 a.m. I stare at the digits, willing them to change, and for time to pass a little bit quicker. The minutes just after eleven will pass at warp speed; they always do. But the ones before are endless, interminable.
A muted chime dings, the familiar sound of a new cable hitting my queue. My gaze shifts from the clock in the corner to the browser window, open to the cable-tracking system, Fortress. A list of cables arrayed like an email inbox, the new one at the top, in bold type.
From Damascus Station. Request for Encryption of New Source, FALCON.
I knew the cable was coming, just didn't know it'd be today. It's a quick recruitment, for sure. But this guy, the one we're now calling Falcon, he's been on the fast track since day one, no doubt about that. He's set to be the CIA's newest source, once I vet him and send the cable up the chain. Something I'll start working on in exactly thirty-one minutes.
I shift my gaze back down to the clock just in time to see it hit 11:00.
Control-Alt-Delete. The cable system disappears, replaced with a small version of the Agency seal set against a black background. I catch sight of my reflection in the screen, and it catches me off guard, how little it looks like me. Hair in desperate need of a cut-and a style. Dark circles that no amount of makeup or coffee can fade.
Not the way I always imagined I'd look at this point in my life, for sure. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. It took three years of hopes and tears and injections-and all our savings-to get here.
"Eleven o'clock already?" Jeremy asks from the cubicle across from mine, right on cue. Same question every day. Creatures of habit, both of us.
I stand and grab my tote bag, sling it over my arm. "Sure is."
"Enjoy your lunch, Jill." He smiles awkwardly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. From anyone else it might seem like a dig, a why-on-earth-are-you-taking-a-lunch-break-at-eleven, but not from Jeremy. From him it's just conversation.
Besides, eleven's lunchtime, no doubt about it. Four hours of work, half-hour lunch, four more hours until the end of the day. The perfect midpoint. And more importantly, the thirty-minute window during which I'm guaranteed to catch sight of Owen. After his morning nap, before the afternoon one. Eleven's the scheduled time for his second bottle of the day, and now a container of pureed veggies, too.
If you'd have told me six months ago I'd see a cable like that in my queue and skip out at precisely eleven to watch an infant eat mashed peas, I'd have laughed. A baby won't change anything, I'd have said. Turns out, he changed everything.
Fact of the matter is, this is the kind of cable a reports officer like me lives for. The chance to vet a source like Falcon, at a time like this.
He's a Syrian defense official attached to a covert biowarfare program, working deep in one of our darkest of black holes. And biowarfare's the new hot topic, like terrorism after 9/11. We've seen the fear a pandemic sows, the hit it takes on an economy.
Our adversaries have seen it, too. And quite frankly, that terrifies us.
By all accounts, everyone's ramping up their biowarfare programs. But penetrations of these covert programs are sorely lacking. And we at the CIA are desperate for sources.
A. J. Graham's the one who's behind this recruitment. Our best case officer in Damascus. It's my job to double-check his work, make sure he didn't miss anything, that he hasn't been compromised, blackmailed. I'm a trained case officer myself, but I traded life in the field for a desk at headquarters when Drew and I learned we'd have to start IVF.
I wade through the sea of cubicles and out of the windowless vault, with its stark, bare walls and too-bright fluorescent lighting. Down the narrow hall now, my pace quick, and up two flights of stairs to ground level. I badge out through an electronic turnstile, passing the host of armed guards. Into the lobby, then out into the sunshine.
<...
