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Storm’s Cage

Amelia Storm Series: Book Three

Mary Stone Amy Wilson

Copyright © 2021 by Mary Stone

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.

Created with Vellum

Mary Stone

To my readers, who are the best ever. You mean the world to me. Thank you from the bottom of my grateful heart.

Amy Wilson

To my one and only, my husband and best friend, and the best boys a mother could dream of, who all worked with me to make this story possible.



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

Amelia Storm Series


About the Author


Secrets locked away in cages can’t tell stories...

After military veteran turned FBI agent Amelia Storm and her partner Zane bust a child porn ring run by one of Chicago’s premier mob families, two of the four men involved are dead—one by his own hand, the second by Amelia's. A third is in jail awaiting trial... if he lives that long.

The fourth man caught on camera taking advantage of helpless children is still a mystery, though they've learned one important thing about him... he’s a detective in the Chicago Police Department. Soon, they learn he’ll do anything to keep his secret safe.

Amelia is determined to hunt down the dirty cop and make him pay for what he’s done. But as the investigation mounts, Amelia grows increasingly troubled by her role in the death of the mobster behind it all, second-guessing if it was justified. When she’s partnered with a witness to the shooting, she’s drawn into a web of intrigue where no one is innocent, and everyone has blood on their hands.

From the dark minds of Mary Stone and Amy Wilson comes Storm’s Cage, book three of the Amelia Storm Series, where you’ll be looking over your shoulder, wondering who to trust.


Ian Strausbaugh leaned against the granite breakfast bar, watching his wife as she ferreted around the living room, randomly picking up and stashing odds and ends in her suitcase.

After zipping her overstuffed bag, Dana looked up. Her expression shifted from frantic to wistful as she met Ian’s gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

He lifted an incredulous eyebrow, though he wasn’t at all surprised by the invitation. “Am I even allowed? It wouldn’t exactly be The Dana and Sarah Show if I’m there, would it?”

The corners of her vivid blue eyes creased with a few fine lines as she grinned big enough to show all her teeth. “Sure it would. You’d just be like an extra, you know?” She flipped her dark hair and gave him a saucy wink. “Or maybe a roadie.”

Ian held up both hands in surrender. “That’s okay. I think I’ll pass. The roadie life just doesn’t really have any appeal to me.”

Dana rolled her eyes and laughed.

He loved her silly high-pitched chuckling. In the close to twenty years he’d known his wife, her laugh had always held that childlike quality that couldn’t help but bring a smile to his face. They’d only been married ten of those years, but Dana had always been a part of his life. She and Sarah, his sister, had been friends since elementary school.

The Dana and Sarah Show.

That’s what Ian had dubbed them in their college years. Between party antics and their shared crass sense of humor, they had earned quite a reputation throughout campus. Wherever The Dana and Sarah Show went, a good time was sure to follow.

Of course, after first marriages, kids, careers, divorces, and remarriages, Dana, Sarah, and even Ian had grown into a more laid-back adult lifestyle. The ladies, however, still reserved a few days each year to take a break from their responsibilities so they could raise a little hell. Ian was always welcome to join, but he couldn’t deny them their fun.

Normally, little vacations like these would mean Ian and the kids could spoil themselves with massive portions of deep-dish Chicago pizza and horror movies. This year, however, the ladies’ trip paired with the teenagers’ non-custodial parent weekend, leaving Ian kid-free on Labor Day. Not wanting to be alone, Ian’s Plan B was to invite the boys from the precinct over for a little five-alarm chili and a Cubs game.

After readjusting the handbag on her shoulder, Dana gestured to the counter behind Ian. “I guess you can’t abandon your slow cooker, can you?”

“You know the answer to that.” Ian let out a huff of feigned exasperation and crossed both arms over his chest. “You and the kids hate when I make chili, so I have to save it for people who actually appreciate my hard work.”

Dana rolled her eyes and took a step forward to close the distance between them. “Your hard work involves, like, fifteen habanero peppers and could probably peel the paint off the side of the house.”

He grinned as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Leaning in, he took a slow breath, letting the vanilla and honey scent of her hair fill his nostrils before whispering in her ear, “Thank you, sweetie. I’ll keep that in mind in case we have to redo the siding any time soon.”

Dana tilted her head and gazed up, meeting his eyes. With a flutter of lashes, she beckoned him closer and planted a sweet kiss on his lips.

Ian tightened his arms around her shoulders. He didn’t want her to go, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny her the weekend of fun she had planned.

As they separated, Dana brushed both hands down the front of

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