Vigilante
Assassin
Jake
Wolfe Book 2
by
Mark Nolan
Genre:
Thriller
Every
marriage has a secret, but this one is deadly. Lauren Stephens wakes
up to find her husband, Gene, has vanished during the night. His
phone is dead. Desperate, she hires Jake Wolfe and his war dog, Cody.
They search the house and discover something so disturbing that Jake
won’t allow Lauren near it. “No, if you see this, there is no
unseeing it.”
Lauren
thought she had it all: a loving partner, two great kids, a
successful business, and a beautiful home in the San Francisco hills.
But all of that is about to come crashing down, due to a missing
husband, a hidden past, and a frightening secret that will shock a
trusting wife to the core. Gene has enemies, and now they want
something from Lauren.
Jake
Wolfe is a flawed man who has a habit of being in the wrong place at
the wrong time. He wants to leave his secret, violent past behind
him, but when Lauren and her children are threatened, his protective
instinct takes command. Jake soon finds himself involved in a
dangerous conspiracy, targeted for death, and engaged in battle with
a powerful, unseen group who will stop at nothing to get what they
want.
Jake’s
going to have to think fast and fight hard to protect Cody, Lauren
and her kids.
Vigilante
Assassin is “Jake Wolfe book two” in the ongoing series. It can
be read as a stand-alone, or you can start with book one, titled:
Dead Lawyers Don’t Lie.
Both
of these Kindle Unlimited books in the Jake Wolfe mystery thriller
novel series are available to read for free with your subscription to
Kindle Unlimited.
Goodreads
* Amazon
Jake
Wolfe bolted upright out of a dead sleep, disoriented and sweating. Driven by
survival instincts born from his years in the Marines, and later in the CIA, he
reached for his nightstand and grabbed his pistol from a hollowed out
constitutional law textbook about the Second Amendment.
He
held the weapon in front of him with both hands. His eyes flicked back and
forth, looking for someone to kill.
Then,
he took a deep breath, as the remnants of a recurring violent nightmare about
his covert paramilitary operations faded away and reality set in.
He
was on board a boat, the Far Niente, out on the San Francisco Bay and anchored
in a quiet spot. He was borrowing the power yacht from his friend, Dylan, and
he loved to spend the night on the water, away from the crowds and the problems
of the city.
His
adopted Marine war dog, Cody, came over to him and huffed, waiting for orders.
Jake
scratched Cody behind the ears and whispered, “It’s okay, buddy, I just had the
dream again.”
The
dog, a yellow Labrador retriever and golden retriever cross, nodded and looked
at Jake with wise eyes.
Jake
got out of bed, and his body felt stiff with the aches and pains of old war
wounds, especially in his thigh where he’d been shot and had nearly bled to
death. The cool dampness of the Pacific Ocean air magnified the pain, but he
loved being on the water so much it was a small price to pay.
His
girlfriend, Sarah, was still sound asleep. Smiling, he gazed at her for a
moment as she lay there; seeing the face of an angel, her beautiful bare
shoulders, and silky dark hair on the white pillow. All that and a personality
that pulled him to her like iron to a magnet.
Turning
away, he found a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt on the floor, put them on,
went out the stateroom door and closed it behind him.
In
the hallway, Cody sniffed Jake’s thigh, sensing his alpha’s pain. He whined and
pushed his head against Jake’s stomach.
“I’m
fine, Cody,” Jake said, and patted his dog on the back.
He
walked to the galley, opened the sliding door and let Cody out onto the deck.
Cody
went to an area of artificial grass to relieve himself.
Jake
walked back to the galley, which was close to the sliding door, brewed a pot of
strong coffee and poured a cup. He opened a cupboard, grabbed a bottle of
Baileys Irish Cream and added a shot to his coffee. He took a sip and nodded
his head in satisfaction.
He
put the Baileys back in the cupboard next to a bottle of Redbreast Irish
Whiskey. Jake stared at the whiskey for a moment, shook his head, closed the
cupboard and pushed that temptation out of his mind. He’d gone down that road
once when his close friend, Stuart, had died of a heroin overdose.
After
that, he’d promised his family and friends he would steer clear of the whiskey
prescription to dull the emotional pain that was his constant companion.
Cody
came back into the galley and trotted to a water cooler with an inverted
five-gallon jug on top. When he pressed his right paw down on a blue lever,
water poured out of the spigot, down through a plastic tube Jake had attached
and into a large bowl on the deck. Once the bowl was full, Cody took his paw
off the lever and drank his fill, then raised his head and looked at Jake with
water dripping off his snout.
Jake
smiled. “You like that Stinson Beach spring water, Cody?”
Cody
licked his nose, barked once and nodded.
“You’re
probably wishing there was a lever to fill your food bowl, too, huh?”
Cody
raised one eyebrow, then sniffed his empty food bowl and gave it a lick.
Jake
headed out onto the aft deck to do some fishing. It was still dark outside and
a thick fog had blanketed the Bay. Visibility was minimal, but Jake could see
the muted glow of the lights on the Golden Gate Bridge off in the distance as
he cast his line off the back rail of the aft deck.
Cody
sat close to Jake, as always, like his shadow.
Jake
drank some coffee, and reveled in the freedom of being out on the water. He
didn’t need to travel very far from shore. The water was a natural barrier to
the endless cars, people, and trouble. It offered a refuge from civilization,
and it just felt so peaceful. Peace was what he wanted most in life right now.
He
was thankful that his friend, Dylan, was letting him borrow the Far Niente.
Dylan was one of those Silicon Valley software millionaires. He currently lived
in Dublin, Ireland. All the large American software and internet companies had
branch offices in Dublin. Although Dylan owned the boat, he never used it. He
was a world traveler and a serial entrepreneur who only came home to California
once or twice a year.
Jake
patted Cody on the back. “This is the good life eh, buddy? When I got fired
from my job last month, it was a blessing in disguise.”
Cody
wagged his tail, and thumped it on the deck. Thump, thump, thump.
“But
I still need to make a living so I can buy the essentials— dog food, beer, and
fuel for the boat, right?”
Cody
barked once and nodded his head. He’d been trained for three different jobs: as
a Marine IED detection dog, then as a patrol dog, and finally, after he was
retired from the Marines due to a lingering injury, he’d been retrained as a
civilian service dog.
He
could understand over a thousand words, and more than a hundred hand signals
and whistled commands.
On
paper he seemed like the perfect service dog. The problem was that he’d once
had to kill an enemy combatant while deployed overseas. He’d saved the lives of
his Marine platoon, but now, much like his owner, he couldn’t let go of his war
training. He was too independent to be a normal service dog;
only
a former war dog handler like Jake could offer the firm leadership he required.
A
foghorn sounded from the San Francisco end of the Golden Gate Bridge with a
low, drawn-out blast. There was a quiet pause, and then another foghorn
answered with two distinctly different blasts from the midspan of the bridge.
In
the quiet stillness after the foghorns ended, Cody stood up and growled. His
hackles stood on end and his tail stuck straight out as he sniffed the air
while showing his teeth.
Jake
paid close attention. He trusted Cody with his life; if his dog sensed that
something was wrong, he believed him. Opening a tall storage cabinet, Jake
grabbed a pump shotgun with an illegal Salvo 12 silencer attached, and reached
into a drawer for a pair of night-vision binoculars.
The
hair on the back of his neck stood up and the sixth sense that he’d honed in
combat warned him of impending danger. He could almost smell it, if such a
thing was possible.
He
heard a little song in his head. He’d been told it was similar to the way some
people with epilepsy heard a tune just before they had a seizure. It had
started happening after he’d had a near-death experience.
He
searched the darkness through the binoculars. There— something was behind them
in the water. An inflatable dinghy emerged from the fog and headed straight
toward the glow of the Far Niente’s running lights.
Jake
recognized that type of boat—he’d used one just like it on night missions in
the Persian Gulf. It was approximately ten feet long and powered by a quiet
electric motor. The one man on board steered the dingy and held a rocket
propelled grenade launcher across his lap.
A
familiar anger burned inside Jake’s chest. Some of his best friends had been
killed by RPGs. Did the terrorists still have a bounty on his head, or was the
man seeking revenge for somebody Jake had assassinated?
One
thing was certain—if an RPG hit the Far Niente’s onethousand- gallon fuel tank,
the resulting fireball would destroy the boat, and kill him, Sarah and Cody.
Cody
stared at the raft and sniffed the air. One of his back legs —the one that had
been injured in combat—trembled.
Jake
whispered, “Cody, take cover.” He gave a hand signal and pointed at a spot
behind the aft rail.
Cody
ducked down prone on his belly, out of sight. He kept his intelligent eyes
trained on Jake, waiting for orders to dive off the boat, swim to the raft, and
attack the enemy.
Jake
aimed the shotgun at the raft and focused his thoughts. He had to make sure his
target pointed the RPG downward. They weren’t far from shore; a high shot could
send the explosive round on a long arc where it might hit a boat, a house, an
apartment building or a restaurant on the nearby shoreline and cause civilian
casualties.
Jake
shook his head. That was not going to happen on his watch. He would take
whatever steps were necessary to stop an enemy combatant armed with a military
weapon who was attacking America’s coastline.
He
flipped on the spotlight and red targeting laser mounted on the shotgun, and
purposely blinded his opponent. “Drop your weapon or I’ll open fire!”
The
bearded man’s eyes widened in surprise, but he ignored the warning as he stood
up and raised the launcher.
Jake
didn’t hesitate. He fired at the man’s hands, where they held onto the
launcher. He shot down and to his left, shredding the man’s left hand and
knocking the weapon downward and to the side.
The
man pulled the trigger with his right hand, and the rocket-propelled grenade
fired into the water of the Bay. Moments later, there was a bright flash
underwater as the RPG exploded. Dead fish floated to the surface, along with
air bubbles that smelled like war.
The
familiar scent triggered Cody’s memories of battle and he let out a fierce
growl, struggling to follow Jake’s orders to take cover.
The
man dropped the empty grenade launcher into the raft and groaned in pain,
holding the wrist of his injured hand tightly.
Jake
kept the red targeting laser trained on his enemy’s chest.
“Who
are you? Who sent you?”
The
man cursed in another language, and spat in Jake’s direction.
In
the years since Jake’s first deployment overseas at the age of nineteen, he’d
seen many men just like this one—and he’d killed them. “I should blow your head
off, but I’ll give you one chance to lie facedown and put your hands on the
back of your neck.”
The
man just sneered, then drew a pistol with his uninjured hand and opened fire.
Jake fired at the same time. He pumped a blast of buckshot into the man’s
chest, and then another. The man fell onto his back in the raft, which began to
lose air. Jake set the shotgun down on the patio table, pointing its
powerful
flashlight at the sinking raft, and then used his encrypted black phone to take
pictures. He zoomed in to get a shot of the man’s face before the raft went
under. The assassin’s legs were caught up in ropes and netting, and he was
pulled down along with the dingy by the weight of the electric outboard engine
and the RPG launcher. Now the only visible signs of the battle were the dead
fish floating on the surface of the water, and they would soon become shark
food.
“That’s
a shame about those fish,” Jake said.
Looking
at the man’s face on his phone, Jake took several deep breaths in an effort to
calm his simmering rage and push back memories of dead friends killed by men
just like this one.
The
fierce animal inside of Jake could rise to the surface at any given moment if
it was provoked, but he tried to keep it under control as best he could.
Cody
stood up on his hind legs and put his front paws on the aft rail, sniffing the
air and growling.
Jake
noticed that Cody’s back leg was trembling again; it was a telltale symptom of
his PTSD.
He
gave Cody a command to stand by. The last thing he needed was for his dog to
dive into the Bay right now, for no reason other than that he wanted to bite
the throat of a dead killer.
He
texted the photos to Secret Service Agent Shannon McKay. She worked at the
White House, but was currently in San Francisco. McKay had requested a lunch
meeting with him at noon. They’d originally had the meeting scheduled a month
ago, but they’d had to postpone it until today.
With
that done, Jake stood there staring out at the dark water and dark sky. No
boats were nearby, so if anyone on shore had been staring out into the dark,
all they might have seen were a few flashes of light. But there was a dead body
in the water, and a fishing boat might pull it up in a net. He hadn’t planned
on killing a man before breakfast. What should I do now? The correct thing
would be to call the cops, and sit here until the police boat SF Marine 1
arrived. Jake knew Captain Leeds, and he
was
good man. But some over-eager rookie prosecutor in the DA’s office might put
Jake and Cody behind bars. Jake could end up in a jail cell, while Cody sat
helpless in a cage at the dog pound, hoping to be adopted and avoid the needle.
No, Jake would never let that happen to Cody.
Maybe
they should just cruise away, avoid the government bureaucracy, and protect the
most precious commodity in their lives—their freedom.
Cody
looked at Jake and barked once.
Jake
felt like Cody was reading his mind. He went inside the boat and heard water
running. Thankful that Sarah was in the shower, he climbed the stairs to the
bridge, manned the controls, raised anchor, and started the twin engines.
The
sixty-foot power yacht was large enough to be seaworthy and cruise the ocean,
yet small enough that it could be handled by one skilled sailor. Jake always
said it was a good vessel for a loner who liked people, but only in small
doses. He glanced at the GPS display and took a picture of it with his
phone.
As
he steered the vessel toward the yacht harbor in Sausalito, he tapped the
contact “Grinds” on his phone and sent a text to his best friend Terrell Hayes.
I had a situation, but it’s all good now. I’ll give you a report in person.
Terrell
was a homicide detective with the SFPD, and an early riser who existed mainly
on coffee, cigarettes, and the occasional sandwich from Molinari’s deli. In
combat, he’d sustained a traumatic brain injury, and now suffered a headache
every day of his life. He often claimed Jake was the source of his headaches,
not the TBI. His text in reply was a single word: Sigh.
Jake
nodded when he saw the text. He often put his friend through a lot of trouble.
But that’s what friends were for, right?
His
encrypted black phone buzzed with a reply text from McKay: I ran the photos
through Homeland’s facial recognition system and got a positive ID. I’ll tell
you more when we meet at noon.
Jake
watched the sun begin to rise, peeking over the Marin headlands and painting
the morning sky and water with brushstrokes of purple and gold. It was another
beautiful day on the Bay, except for the fact that somebody had tried to kill
him.
Would
he ever have a normal, peaceful life? Or had fate doomed him to a violent
struggle against the bloodthirsty killers of the world?
He
had a strange feeling he was about to find out.
Jake Wolfe and his dog Cody are back for round two in the
Jake Wolfe series. I first fell in love with Cody and Jake in book one Dead
Lawyers Don’t Lie. I will have to say that I liked the second book Vigilante Assassin
more.
Cody is one incredibly smart and cute dog and his friend
Jake is not so bad either. They both care very deeply for women and children
and will put their lives in danger to protect either one.
Everywhere Jake turns someone is trying to kill him. Jake
somehow manages to get himself in dangerous situations every time he turned
around and all he was doing was trying to protect someone or save them.
A woman’s husband goes missing and Jake is called in to help
to find him. While he is at the woman’s home her children is taken. Jake risks
everything to find them.
Vigilante Assassin takes us on a dangerous ride into murder,
drug trafficking and kidnapping. Cody is one smart dog who follows orders well.
But you might want to be aware of what you say in front of him he can be
dangerous if he is in the right command mode or if you are not his friend or
Jake’s. Cody is a working dog. He was in the military just like his buddy Jake.
When kids are involved he can be the sweetest dog ever.
Someone is after Jake and they want him dead and they will
not stop until the deed is done. Little do they know Jake Wolfe is one smart
cookie himself and he has no plans of dying in the near future. Jake likes to
make a big bang and blow stuff up if the occasion calls for it that is. I am
looking forward to more books with Jake and Cody and the rest of the gang.
I would recommend Vigilante Assassin to anyone who likes a
good thriller, mystery or crime story with a very smart dog.
Dead
Lawyers Don't Lie
Jake
Wolfe Book 1
A
mysterious killer who calls himself The Artist is assassinating
wealthy lawyers in San Francisco. When war veteran Jake Wolfe
accidentally takes his picture during a murder, The Artist adds Jake
to his kill list and he becomes a target in a deadly game of cat and
mouse that only one of them can survive. How far would you go to
protect your loved ones from a killer? Jake wants to leave his top
secret, violent past life behind him. But the reluctant, flawed hero
can't ignore his duty and his personal moral compass.
This
gripping thriller is full of suspense, plot twists and surprises. It
features a cast of interesting characters, including several
strong-willed women, two wise-cracking San Francisco Police Homicide
Inspectors, one highly intelligent dog, and a philosophical killer
who shares Jake's admiration for Van Gogh paintings but still plans
to kill him anyway. As Jake gets closer to unraveling a merciless
conspiracy, his life gets turned upside down and the danger level
increases, adding to the growing suspense. This entertaining
page-turner starts out as a murder mystery and then shifts gears into
a high-speed action thriller that takes you on a roller-coaster ride
to the riveting ending. A good read for those who enjoy mysteries,
suspense, action and adventure, vigilante justice, unique characters,
witty dialogue and a little romance too. Now on sale in over a dozen
countries around the world. Be the first among your friends to read
it.
Fans
of new Kindle Unlimited novels will be happy to know this book is one
of the best financial thrillers in kindle unlimited books.
Photojournalist
Jake Wolfe sat in his Jeep Grand Cherokee and watched Caxton walk toward the
parking area. The television news station where Jake worked had assigned him to
get photos or video of Caxton doing something scandalous. He’d been following
the lawyer for days.
Jake
glared at the slick attorney as his thoughts turned once again to the previous
weekend. It was all he could think about lately. His boss had told him to follow
Caxton to a strip club and record him with a hidden camera. The pounding music
at the club had been so loud that Jake had missed a call from Stuart, one of
his best friends from when he’d served in the Marines.
Later
that night, Stuart had been found dead from a heroin overdose and Jake blamed
himself for not answering Stuart’s call in his time of need. And he resented
his employer—and Caxton —for causing him to go on the assignment.
He
took a deep breath and let it out. His hangover today wasn’t as bad as the one
he’d had yesterday, or the day before.
He
took a drink from a bottle of water and promised himself that he would stop
using whiskey to numb the pain. Last night his fiancée, Gwen, had told him he
needed to get over Stuart and move on. She may have been right, but when she
talked that way, Jake felt he might get over her and move on.
For
a moment, he considered quitting his job, cancelling the wedding, and borrowing
a friend’s powerboat. A few weeks alone at sea might do him good. He shoved
that reckless idea from his head and reminded himself to take life one day at a
time. He was going to Stuart’s funeral tomorrow; maybe that would bring some
closure and peace. Maybe then he could forgive himself and stop thinking about
hunting down the drug dealers who deserved to die.
Jake
was observant, a people watcher, and as he waited for Caxton to drive out of
the lot, he noticed an attractive, welldressed woman who wore her gray hair in
an updo. She reminded him of his own grandmother, so full of life and love and
wisdom. As she was getting into her car, a man in a dark hoodie and filthy
jeans stood up from where he’d been crouched between two parked cars, grabbed
her purse, tore it from her hand, shoved her to the ground, and took off
running toward Jake’s vehicle. Jake opened his car door, shoving it fast and
hard and straight-arming it like a football player.
The
door and the purse snatcher collided—and the door won.
The
thief’s face smacked into the window, his knees banging against the metal. He
bounced off and landed flat on his back on the pavement, dropping the purse as
he fell. Jake got out of his vehicle, closed the door, and stood looking down
at the thief. A bruise was forming on the man’s forehead. He struggled to his
knees and glanced at the purse on the ground near Jake’s feet.
Jake
shook his head at him. “Leave it.”
He
had the sunken eyes and sallow complexion of a meth addict. He looked Jake up
and down and saw his worst-case scenario, a vigilante who still believed in
chivalry.
Jake
took a step forward and raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to give you to the
count of three. One … two …”
The
man reacted in a fight-or-flight response that came from deep within the
recesses of his chemically cooked lizard brain. He got up and ran across the
street with surprising speed, vanishing around the corner into a crowd of
pedestrians.
Jake
picked up the purse and walked past several parked cars to where the woman was
standing, and handed the purse to her.
“Are
you all right, ma’am?”
“Yes,
I’m fine. Thank you for stopping that thief.”
“You’re
welcome.”
“Are
you an undercover police officer or just a man who believes in doing the right
thing?”
“Actually,
I just lost my temper there for a minute.”
Her
eyes opened wide. Jake held the car door as she got into her vehicle. He stood
there and waited until her door was closed and locked and the engine running.
She waved as she drove off. Jake nodded and walked back to his Jeep.
As
he walked, he stood out from the people in business suits.
Several
women stared at him, observing the controlled, deliberate, and dangerous way
his animal-like body moved. He was tall, with wavy dark hair and dark eyes, and
wore jeans and boots, with a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket. His face
was devoid of expression, and his muscular body and confident walk gave the
impression that he could handle himself in just about any situation.
Mark
Nolan is the author of Dead Lawyers Don't Lie, and the sequel,
Vigilante Assassin. Right now he's busy writing Jake Wolfe Book 3. He
also tries to make time every day to answer emails from readers. You
can reach him and subscribe to his newsletter at marknolan.com.
Follow
the tour HERE
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2 comments:
This looks so good!
This series sounds great, and I really like the covers! Thanks for sharing and for the giveaway!
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