Force No One
Barnes & Noble
Release Date: September 28, 2018
A homicide in Detroit usually doesn't raise many eyebrows, but a victim is found with a business card from a Department of Homeland Security enforcement cell no one's ever heard of. FBI Special Agent Amber "Corvette" Watson and Detroit Police homicide detective Sgt. Tracey Lexcellent catch the case.
With a disgraced U.S. Army Ranger who can forget nothing and a black-budget CIA team in tow, they must solve the murder before terrorists can parachute into open-air Comerica Park during the opening ceremonies of the World Series to blow themselves up and kill thousands on live television.
People are going to die. Everyone hopes they are the bad guys.Add on Goodreads
“For Tom Clancy fans who like their characters strong and the hardware cool—don't miss this.”
—Doug Richardson, screenwriter of DIE HARD 2 and BAD BOYS, author of the LUCKY DEY crime series
“With characters robust and dynamic, a plot complex and absorbing like riding in a Corvette Z06 gunning up a switchback mountainside road, Force No One keeps the knuckles white, the fingernails buried in leather. Strap in, hang on!”
—Mike Hancock, author of Fallen
“Force No One is a bear-trap of a thriller—smart, relentlessly propulsive, and no, it won’t let you go.”</em?
—Richard Adams Carey, author of In The Evil Day
“Exciting stuff ... with some cherchez la femme and evil intent. A blast.”
—Charlie Stella, author of Tommy Red and Mafiya
“If you love thrillers, Force No One will put you on the ride of your life—from the first page to the last. From the streets of Detroit and New York to the skies above Pakistan, this story moves at lightning speed—buckle your seatbelts!”
—Special Operations COL John Fenzel, U.S. Army (Ret), author of The Fifth Column and The Sterling Forest
If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles.
— Sun Tzu (Unknown-496 BC), Chinese philosopher
“So Joe, my friend, you owe me. You owe me, and you have been dodging me.” Xavier Cloud—Zave to his friends—had been looking for his friend for a long time, and he was often not a patient man.
The two men were isolated in an empty Detroit warehouse under the bright yellow cone from a shaded light. It hung from an industrial I-beam, a rafter thick with countless coats of institutional green paint. Translucent dust particles, random bits of asbestos, and traces of animal feces floated in the dirty beam.
In the distance, a summer storm birthed powerful rumbles as it drew closer.
“You were supposed to find me, weren’t you? And yet it was I who had to find you. I understand you don’t want to give me the briefcase. I understand the reasons why you have been a ghost for twelve years—all one hundred million of them. But your loyalties are divided, aren’t they, Joe? They need a tune-up. That’s why we’re old friends, bro. And friends don’t let friends screw up.”
He paused for a moment, making an allowance for their shared history. There was a lot of it.
“Therefore ... my friend ... I am here to help you in the not screwing up part.”
Without a breeze to relieve the dank conditions in the space, the two men had dissolved into their shirts. One, however, sweated more vigorously than the other.