After his experience with his son, he is passionate about helping parents reach young reluctant readers and is active in child literacy issues. As a father of five, he leads an active life in Maryland with his wife Nicole by trying to constantly keep up with their kids. In rare moments of quiet, he can be found in the back of the City Dock Cafe in Annapolis working on his next novel or on JeffGunhus.com.
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“A brilliantly written thriller. Breakneck twists, political intrigue and bristling action scenes—Jeff Gunhus writes with a gripping and gritty authority.”
—Simon Gervais, author of Hunt Them Down
Published by: Kensington
Publication date: December 31st 2019
Genres: Adult, Thriller
With more than a dozen kills under her belt, ex-Marine Mara Roberts is one of the Agency’s most reliable assassins. But her latest target—a convicted traitor about to be released from prison—is different than her other marks. He’s a former agent who betrayed his country. He’s responsible for the death of Mara’s mother. And he happens to be Mara’s father . . .
Scott Roberts knows that his daughter was sent to kill him. He realizes he has only one chance to change her mind, to convince her that he’s been framed for treason—and that every member of their family are pawns to be sacrificed, one by one. Mara isn’t sure she can trust her father. He is a master of manipulation, as ruthless as he is resourceful. But when her nephew is abducted, she agrees to follow Scott’s lead and expose the global elites who are pulling the strings. But first, they must infiltrate the highest levels of power. Then, they must attempt the unthinkable: Kidnap the President of the United States . . .
EXCERPT
Ten minutes.
The parking lot was filled with passenger cars and minivans. What if the mission required her to break into the perimeter? She imagined a frontal attack with a full assault team like she’d been trained to do in the Marines. Or a covert entry via the supply chain like she’d been taught at the Farm. Finally, she considered diving from an airplane at 30,000 feet with a squirrel-suit on and landing in the middle of the yard. That was what her dad would have done.
No, not her dad. She couldn’t think that way. Her target, nothing more.
Seven minutes.
She reached under her seat. Felt the Glock in its hiding place. She took a deep, steadying breath, hating the ice ball churning in her stomach.
“Get your shit together, Mara,” she muttered.
She tried to calm herself down by thinking of her little nephew Joey. His mom, her brave sister Lucy, had marched through her cancer endgame, from the first shock of the diagnosis, through the treatments and, finally, the closing pain-filled days. Mara had held Joey’s tiny hand as they lowered his mother’s casket into the ground next to his father’s grave. Only this time there was no military salute. No folded flag to commemorate the fallen. There was only a small group of quiet friends to mark bitter truth about the unpredictability of life. The boy had been quiet all day, holding it in. But once the casket started its descent into the ground, he’d lost it. As he wailed, calling out for his mom, Mara had wrapped him in her arms and whispered for the hundredth time that she’d take care of him. She’d told the Agency that next day that she wanted to transfer out of fieldwork and teach instead. They’d agreed, but then her dad was found. And they asked for one more job.
Five minutes.
She did another scan. Wait. That black pickup truck with a camper shell in the far back corner. The driver’s cab was empty which was why she’d dismissed it earlier. This time she saw a round reflective surface flash on the side of the camper shell, the right size to be a spotting scope. Her shadow. She smiled, pleased that she hadn’t lost her touch.
Three minutes.
She took a swig from a water bottle. Her initial request for a long-range shot had been denied. The powers-that-be didn’t want a hit in broad daylight in front of a maximum security prison. There’d be video footage from five different angles and it’d inevitably leak out to the public. That wasn’t good.
Still, it would have been a sure thing. When she’d pressed them on it, they’d come clean. It was the same reason they hadn’t killed him inside the prison. They wanted him dead, but they wanted her to question him first. Her instructions were to use their relationship to get him to talk and then incapacitate him and move to a black site to conduct more advanced questioning.
Once done, he was to be terminated. Under no circumstances was he to be killed prior to questioning, nor was he to be allowed to be brought into custody through regular channels. On these two last points, her instructions had been very clear.
The more she thought about it, the more she liked this approach. A headshot was too easy of an out for him. He deserved to suffer first. And suffering was something she was well-trained at dispensing.
One minute.
She opened the door and stepped outside, leaving the car running. The heat was dry and oppressive, and it felt like all moisture on her skin evaporated in seconds. She put on her sunglasses, walked to the front of the car and leaned up against the hood. Crossed her arms. And waited.
Time.
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