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Why would a billionaire smuggle terrorists into the country?
On a mission to free enslaved Iraqi friends, Jacob Stearne feels good about liberating an American held with them. Then he learns the American leads a terrorist cell. The man vanishes. Scrambling after his mistake from Latin America to the South Pacific, Jacob gets a bad feeling when he tracks the fundamentalists heading for the USA.
Pia Sabel is doing her best to learn the family business. She’s feeling a little out of place among the billionaires when the president charges her with uncovering a peer intent on destroying the country. With no shortage of rich, arrogant suspects, trust quickly becomes her biggest problem. Who is funding the radicals Jacob is hunting? Her boyfriend? An old associate? Her father?
While the wealthy fraternize with politicians, everything Pia believed in is turned upside down. Facing a collision with evil she cannot win her team can only hope to save some—not all. As the clock ticks down, Pia and Jacob must face the ultimate question: in the final showdown, will they have what it takes?
The riveting thriller from sensational author Seeley James featuring the unrivaled heroes Sabel & Stearne asks the question: who can you trust?
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Chapter 1
Who to trust is the scariest decision we make in life. I grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head back, and, cheek-to-cheek, we contemplated the sparkling stars dotting the moonless Syrian sky. I sensed his eyeballs strain all the way to the right to look at me. His fingernails dug into my forearm. Anxiety caused him to miss the grandeur of the moment. Too bad. It was stunningly beautiful. You don’t see that many stars from over-lit American cities. But I tired of our two-second relationship and drew my blade across his throat, severing his carotid artery and larynx before he could scream a warning to the others. I dropped his carcass on the other jihadi at my feet. He trusted me because I speak Arabic. Bad idea.
I stared at the dead fighters and thought about how ISIL’s perversion of Islam wasted so many lives.
But then, I’m hardly the guy to judge other people’s religious beliefs.
Mercury, winged messenger of the Roman gods, waved to me from the narrow, dusty village lane. Earth to Jacob. Ain’t the time for contemplative yoga, dawg. That monster raped three women yesterday. C’mon now. Get your head in the game. You need to find that cowboy.
After a decade guiding me through battles as a disembodied voice in my head, Mercury decided to make himself manifest. Some people would consider meeting god in person as a divine miracle. Others would encourage me to go back on my meds. Maybe I had taken a swan dive off the sanity cliff, but when I ponder how lucky I am to have god on my side—even if he’s been surviving on unemployment benefits since the late fourth century—I count my blessings. And when he tells me to keep my eyes open for a cowboy in an ISIL-held Syrian town, I listen.
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