Vigilante (Dangerous Times Collection Book #3)

Robin Parrish

Description

Nolan Gray is an elite soldier, skilled in all forms of combat. After years fighting on foreign battlefields, witnessing unspeakable evils and atrocities firsthand, a world-weary Nolan returns home to find it just as corrupt as the war zones. Everywhere he looks, there's pain and cruelty. Society is being destroyed by wicked men who don't care who they make suffer or destroy.Nolan decides to do what no one else can, what no one has ever attempted. He will defend the helpless. He will tear down the wicked. He will wage a one-man war on the heart of man, and he won't stop until the world is the way it should be.The wicked have had their day. Morality's time has come. In a culture starving for a hero, can one extraordinary man make things right?

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 juillet 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441232366
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

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© 2011 by Robin Parrish

Published by Bethany House Publishers 11400 Hampshire Avenue South Bloomington, Minnesota 55438 www.bethanyhouse.com

Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

E-book edition created 2011

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise —without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

ISBN 978-1-4412-3236-6

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION.® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 Biblica. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.www.zondervan.com Scripture quotations identified KJV are from the King James Version of the Bible.

For my precious, precious Emma. You are my sunshine.

Cover Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Prologue

Part One: The Plan 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Part Two: The Hand 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

CONTENTS

39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Part Three: The War 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75

Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Book List Back Ads Back Cover

PROLOGUE

or the United States, it is a time of revolution an d unrest. F Nine years ago, a long, bloody war waged on foreign soil came to a bitter end. It was a war against evils and crimes against humanity not witnessed since the reign of Adolf Hitler—evils that cut into the very soul of man. In the years since, America has grown increasingly unstable. A faltering economy is on the brink of a second Great Depression. Despair and apa thy have led to nationwide demoralization. And once again, seizing the moment, organized crime spreads like a cancer. . . .

1 olan Gray gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as the pistol was aimed at his face from just inches N away. The barrel of the SIG Sauer P226 was so close, he could clearly see the tiny gold anchor engraved on its left side, designating it as a standard Navy Special Forces weapon. Beads of sweat beneath Nolan’s mop of unkempt hair gave way to droplets, and traced a path on his skin down to his eyes, nose, ears, and neck. He was waiting for the pain, knew it was coming any second, but despite his immense training and experience, it was still an incredible thing to know you’re about to be shot. Finally he blinked when the gun never went off. “Look . . .” said Branford, the man across from him. His arm never wavered, his hand never shook. It was steady and sure, outstretched directly toward Nolan’s head. Branford’s crusty voice never sounded anything but confident. His comment was one of clarification. Nolan was becoming angry, his carefully attuned discipline threatening to falter. The moment was at hand. There wasn’t time for this, not now. The light of the moon was brighter than the nearest street lamp. Nolan glanced around, the city eerily silent at this dark hour, yet he could detect a distant bicycle, a jogger—probably female, from the sound of the footfalls—and someone coughing. Sooner or later one of these passersby was going to cross his path, and he was going to lose his chance. “Just do it!”insisted Nolan. Branford’s hand cinched tighter around the polymer grips of the matte black P226, so tight his knuckles showed white. Still he never quivered, the gun an immovable mass of metal that could have been grafted to his arm. Nolan closed his eyes and braced himself again. “This is asking an awful lot. . . .” muttered the other man. Nolan’s eyes popped open, and he choked down the outrage rising within him. “There isn’t anybody else!” he said through bared teeth. “You thinkArjaycould do this?” “And if I miss?” asked Branford, his voice the bark of a Rottweiler. “You would never miss,” Nolan said without hesitation. “Always a first time,” griped Branford with a sigh. “All right. On three. One . . .” Nolan steeled himself one last time. He closed his eyes when Branford reached “two.” Branford squinted slightly, adjusting the angle of his weapon by the slightest degree. “Three.” The sound was swallowed by the SIG’s attached silencer, but Nolan never heard a thing, even at such close range. Instead, he was on fire with a pain so intense it brought rushing back long- suppressed memories of the horrors he’d been subjected to during the war. And just when he was about to allow himself to pass out from the powerful sensation and the crippling memories it brought, another shot rang out, and the pain became twice as searing. He couldn’t hold on any longer. This was the end. His end. As it should be. As it was meant to be. Nolan Gray was no more.

———

Aaron Branford stared at the man on the ground, his blood seeping into the soil. A brief examination later, he glanced around the area in every direction, careful to ensure that no one had heard the muffled shots from his sidearm. Satisfied, Branford quickly retrieved a shoe box–sized package from a nearby bush and placed it on the ground beside Nolan’s body. As he opened the box, he pulled out a phone from his pants pocket and dialed the only number saved to the phone’s memory. He set to work on the box’s many contents, placing them in the proper positions while waiting impatiently for the phone to be answered. “Branford?” shouted a smooth voice over a pronounced clamoring of metal. “Who else would it be, genius?” Branford growled back, peeking around the area again for unwanted eyes. “Nobody else has this number, Arjay.” On the other end of the line, Branford could hear the crackling of soldering in the background. “You were successful?” shouted Arjay over the noise. “The trigger’s been pulled,” Branford said, the phone held between his ear and his shoulder as he continued to put the objects from the shoe box on the ground. “You better be on schedule.” “My work is well in hand” was Arjay’s smooth reply.

A gruff “hm” was all Branford gave as a reply. “You’d best do everything you can to give him the advantage, you hear me? I’ve got to get off the street. Once things have simmered down, I’ll check in.” There was a pause. “And then what?” asked Arjay. Branford creased his eyebrows, his worn, leathery skin nearly cracking. “Then we begin,” he replied, and snapped shut the phone.