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Worth Dying For : Jack Reacher Series, Book 15
by Lee Child and Dick Hill

Overview -

#1 New York Times bestselling author Lee Child follows the electrifying 61 Hours with his latest Reacher thriller--a story that hits the ground running and then accelerates all the way to a colossal showdown.

There's deadly trouble in the corn country of Nebraska ...  Read more...



 

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More About Worth Dying For by Lee Child; Dick Hill
 
 
 
Overview

#1 New York Times bestselling author Lee Child follows the electrifying 61 Hours with his latest Reacher thriller--a story that hits the ground running and then accelerates all the way to a colossal showdown.

There's deadly trouble in the corn country of Nebraska ... and Jack Reacher walks right into it. First he falls foul of a local clan that has terrified an entire county into submission. But it's the unsolved case of a missing child, already decades-old, that Reacher can't let go.

The Duncans want Reacher gone--and it's not just past secrets they're trying to hide. They're awaiting a secret shipment that's already late - and they have the kind of customers no one can afford to annoy. For as dangerous as the Duncans are, they're right at the bottom of a criminal food chain stretching halfway around the world.

For Reacher, it would have made much more sense to keeping on going, to put some distance between himself and the hardcore trouble that's bearing down on him.

For Reacher, that was also impossible.

WORTH DYING FOR is the kind of explosive thriller only Lee Child could write and only Jack Reacher could survive--a heart-racing page-turner no suspense fan will want to miss.


From the Hardcover edition.

 
Details
  • Publisher: Random House Audio Publishing Group
  • Date: Oct 2010
 
Excerpts

From the book


CHAPTER NINE

Reacher checked the window. There were four tires in total, big knobbly off-road things, all of them on a Ford pick-up truck. The truck had a jacked suspension and lights on a roof bar and a snorkel air intake and a winch on the front. There were two large shapes in the gloom inside. The shapes had thick necks and huge shoulders. The truck nosed slowly down the row of cabins and stopped twenty feet behind the parked Subaru. The headlights stayed on. The engine idled. The doors opened. Two guys climbed out.

They both looked like Brett, only bigger. Late twenties, easily six-six or six-seven, probably close to three hundred pounds each, big waists made tiny by huge chests and arms and shoulders. They had cropped hair and small eyes and fleshy faces. They were the kind of guys who ate two dinners and were still hungry afterward. They were wearing red Cornhuskers football jackets made gray by the blue light from the cabin's eaves.

The doctor's wife joined Reacher at the window.

"Sweet Jesus," she said.

Reacher said nothing.

The two guys closed the truck's doors and stepped back in unison to the load bed and unlatched a tool locker bolted across its width behind the cab. They lifted the lid and one took out an engineer's ball-peen hammer and the other took out a two-headed wrench at least a foot and a half long. They left the lid open and walked forward into the truck's headlight wash and their shadows jumped ahead of them. They were light on their feet and nimble for their size, like football players usually were. They paused for a moment and looked at the cabin's door, and then they turned away.

Toward the Subaru.

They attacked it in a violent frenzy, an absolute blitzkrieg, two or three minutes of uncontrolled smashing and pounding. The noise was deafening. They smashed every shard of glass out of the windshield, they smashed the side windows, the back window, the headlights, the tail lights. They hammered jagged dents into the hood, into the doors, into the roof, into the fenders, into the tailgate. They put their arms through the absent glass and smashed up the dials and the switches and the radio.

Shit, Reacher thought. There goes my ride.

US"My husband's punishment," the doctor's wife whispered. "Worse this time."

The two guys stopped as suddenly as they had started. They stood there, one each side of the wrecked wagon, and they breathed hard and rolled their shoulders and let their weapons hang down by their sides. Pebbles of broken automotive glass glittered in the neon and the boom and clang of battered sheet metal echoed away to absolute silence.

Reacher took off his coat and dumped it on the bed.

The two guys formed up shoulder to shoulder and headed for the cabin's door. Reacher opened it up and stepped out to meet them head on. Win or lose, fighting inside would bust up the room, and Vincent the motel owner had enough problems already.

The two guys stopped ten feet away and stood there, side by side, symmetrical, their weapons in their outside hands, four cubic yards of bone and muscle, six hundred pounds of beef, all flushed and sweating in the chill.

Reacher said, "Pop quiz, guys. You spent four years in college learning how to play a game. I spent thirteen years in the army learning how to kill people. So how scared am I?"

No answer.

"And you were so bad at it you couldn't even get drafted afterward. I was so good at it I got all kinds of medals and promotions. So how scared are you?"

"Not very," said the guy with the wrench.

Wrong answer. But understandable. Being a good enough guard...

 
Reviews

Praise for #1 bestselling author Lee Child and his Reacher series

"Child is a superb craftsman of suspense." - Entertainment Weekly


"The truth about Reacher gets better and better." - Janet Maslin, The New York Times


"Implausible, irresistible Reacher remains just about the best butt-kicker in thriller-lit." - Kirkus Reviews


"Like his hero Jack Reacher, Lee Child seems to make no wrong steps."--Associated Press

"Lee Child [is] the current poster-boy of American crime fiction." - Los Angeles Times


"Indisputably the best escape artist in this escapist genre." - Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times


"Jack Reacher is much more like the heir to the Op and Marlowe than Spenser ever was." - Esquire

 
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