The edge-of-your-seat, heart-in-mouth new Jack Reacher thriller for 2021 - his 25th adventure. No one's bigger than Jack Reacher.\nJack Reacher gets off the bus in a sleepy no-name town outside Nashville, Tennessee. He plans to grab a cup of coffee and move right along.\nNot going to happen.\nThe town has been shut down by a cyber attack. At the centre of it all, whether 
he likes it or not, is Rusty Rutherford. He's an average IT guy, but he knows more than he thinks.\nAs the bad guys move in on Rusty, Reacher moves in on them . . .\nAnd now Rusty knows he's protected, he's never going to leave the big man's side.\nReacher might just have to stick around and find out what the hell's gone wrong . . . and then put it right, like only he can.

The Sentinel

Child Lee & Andrew

RANDOM HOUSE UK

Better Off Dead

No Plan B

Chapter 1\nThe stranger got into position under the streetlight at 11:00 p.m., as agreed.\nThe light had been easy to find, just like he’d been told it would be. It was the only one in the compound that was still working, all the way at the far end, six feet shy of the jagged metal fence that separated the United States from Mexico.\nHe was alone. And unarmed.\nAs agreed.\nThe car showed up at 11:02. It kept to the center of the space between the parallel rows of lockup garages. They were made of metal, too. Roofs warped by the sun. Walls scoured by the sand. Five on the right. Four on the left. And the remains of one more lying torn and corroded ten feet to the side, like something had exploded inside it years ago.\nThe car’s lights were on bright, making it hard to recognize the make and model. And impossible to see inside. It continued until it was fifteen feet away then braked to a stop, rocking on its worn springs and settling into a low cloud of sandy dust. Then its front doors opened. Both of them. And two men climbed out.\nNot as agreed.\nBoth the car’s back doors opened. Two more men climbed out.\nDefinitely not as agreed.\nThe four men paused and sized the stranger up. They’d been told to expect someone big and this guy sure fit the bill. He was six feet five. Two hundred and fifty pounds. Chest like a gun safe and hands like backhoe buckets. And scruffy. His hair was coarse and unkempt. He hadn’t shaved for days. His clothes looked cheap and ill-fitting, except for his shoes. Somewhere between a hobo and a Neanderthal. Not someone who was going to be missed.\nThe driver stepped forward. He was a couple of inches shorter than the stranger, and a good fifty pounds lighter. He was wearing black jeans and a black sleeveless T-shirt. He had on black combat-style boots. His head was shaved, but his face was hidden by a full beard. The other guys followed, lining up alongside him.\n“The money?” the driver said.\nThe stranger patted the back pocket of his jeans.\n“Good.” The driver nodded toward the car. “Backseat. Get in.”\n“Why?”\n“So I can take you to Michael.”\n“That wasn’t the deal.”\n“Sure it was.”\nThe stranger shook his head. “The deal was, you tell me where Michael is.”\n“Tell you. Show you. What’s the difference?”\nThe stranger said nothing.\n“Come on. What are you waiting for? Give me the money and get in the car.”\n“I make a deal, I stick to it. You want the money, tell me where Michael is.”\nThe driver shrugged. “The deal’s changed. Take it or leave it.”\n“I’ll leave it.”\n“Enough of this.” The driver reached behind his back and took a pistol from his waistband. “Cut the crap. Get in the car.”\n“You were never going to take me to Michael.”\n“No shit, Sherlock.”\n“You were going to take me to someone else. Someone who has questions for me.”\n“No more talking. Get in the car.”\n“Which means you can’t shoot me.”\n“Which means I can’t kill you. Yet. I can still shoot you.”\nThe stranger said, “Can you?”\nA witness would have said the stranger hardly moved at all but somehow in a split second he had closed the gap between them and had his hand on the driver’s wrist. Which he pulled up, like a proud fisherman hauling something from the sea. He forced the guy’s arm way above his head. He hoisted it so high the guy was raised up on his tiptoes. Then he drove his left fist into the guy’s side. Hard. The kind of punch that would normally knock a man down. And keep him down. Only the driver didn’t fall. He couldn’t. He was suspended by his arm. His feet slid back. The gun fell from his fingers. His shoulder dislocated. Tendons stretched. Ribs shattered. It was a grotesque cascade of injuries. Each one debilitating in its own right. But in the moment he hardly noticed any of them. Because his entire upper body was convulsing in agony. Searing bolts of pain shot through him, all stemming from one place. A spot just below his armpit, where a dense tangle of nerves and lymph nodes nestled beneath the skin. The exact spot that

RANDOM HOUSE US

Better Off Dead (Jack Reacher 26)

Mystery, Thriller & Suspense

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