No Mercy (A Jonathan Grave Thriller)
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“No Mercy will leave you breathless.” --Harlan Coben
When those inside the corridors of power need help outside the law, they know who to call. Jonathan Grave, covert rescue specialist, always gets results. No names. No feds. No trace evidence.
When an Indiana college student is abducted, Jonathan and his team of ace operatives unravel a deadly scheme the government wants ignored. Someone wants to control a devastating secret. Someone rich, powerful, and willing to kill anyone to get it. Even the people Jonathan loves most.
Praise for John Gilstrap
“One of the finest thriller writers on the planet.” --Tess Gerritsen
“If you like Vince Flynn and Brad Thor, you’ll love John Gilstrap.” --Gayle Lynds
“Gilstrap pushes every thriller button.” --San Francisco Chronicle
“When you pick up a Gilstrap novel you are going to be entertained at a high rate of speed.” --Suspense Magazine
said. Jonathan forced a smile. God, he didn’t like that woman. There was indeed a fairly steep slope to the backyard, but apparently just beyond the tree line, it went nearly vertical. “Why isn’t the road on the map?” Boxers asked. “These things are usually pretty accurate.” “There’s really not much to it,” Thomas said. “It’s not really even a road. More like a wide trail.” Jonathan asked, “How do you get to it? Where does it begin and end?” Stephenson and Thomas looked to each other for
And that said everything. He heaved himself over the window and onto the porch with a clattering thump. Julie reached for his ankle, but he was already gone. The volume of fire outside crescendoed. But for the heavy timber walls, they’d have all been torn to pieces. Gail started to crawl across the cabin to Stephenson’s window, then realized that a chance to hit a second target at the same spot would spell disaster for her. Acting on pure impulse, she turned and vaulted out of her own window
pilot reply, “Go ahead, Scorpion.” Jonathan looked to Will. “It begins here or it ends here. It’s your call, and you don’t get a second chance. Do we have a deal or don’t we?” You could almost see the thoughts racing through the reporter’s head. “Just the names?” “Scorpion, do you have traffic for Rescue Flight?” Jonathan keyed the mike. “Stand by.” To Will: “All parties remain anonymous. We’ll be a whole nest of Deep Throats. No names, no personal descriptions, nothing to make us
from Ivan’s jaws never slackened. If anything, his grip closed tighter. Through the gleaming red-black mask, Ivan’s eyes glared malignantly at Jonathan. He had this one chance at survival, and as long as he was still breathing, he wasn’t going to squander it. The eyes. One mangled and the other evil. Were those eyes the last thing that Angela Caldwell had seen when he’d killed her after he’d made her endure her children’s suffering? Had Ellen witnessed the same defiant glare as Ivan raped her
side of the angels.” Gail stood. She had to stand or she’d blow up. She walked to the front window. Watching her own reflection in the glass, she chuckled again. “I guess if I’d just agreed with you from the start, I wouldn’t feel like such a pawn right now.” Irene remained silent. What was there to say when the truth was put so elegantly? Gail turned to face the chief law enforcer in the United States. “So, what lie do I tell?” Irene was ready for the question. “The Patrone brothers were