Download Burn Notice: The End Game by Tod Goldberg PDF

By Tod Goldberg

Ex-covert op Michael Westen has a brand new patron. Paolo Fornelli is Helmsman for a yacht within the typhoon Cup-a winner-take-all race financed by way of the super-rich and preceded by means of every week of highstakes playing, high-risk enterprise, and high-class perspective. Paolo's kinfolk has been taken hostage. If Paolo ever desires to see them back, he needs to make it to the ultimate race-and lose. to discover the abductors, Michael must infiltrate excessive society and input a dangerous online game opposed to deadlier competitors in an international the place funds is not the basically factor worthy killing for...

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Evelyn said. ” “Yes,” I said. “Yes. ” I took Evelyn’s hand and shook it vigorously. “You have indeed. Target thanks you for your support. Everything in the store is twenty percent off. Enjoy. ” After the woman skittered off to shop to her heart’s content, the entire world 20 percent brighter and filled with more possibility, I finally located the appliance aisle about a city block away and grabbed a silver toaster oven and a matching silver Crock-Pot, figuring, What the hell? Might as well come big.

David? Davey Harris? AYSO? Civics with Mr. Dunaway? ” Crap. I’d made it a point to avoid running into anyone I might have grown up with, which is difficult when your hometown is a tourist mecca, never mind probably a decent place to spend your adult life provided you aren’t a former spy on the run. Which I guess is probably a fairly small sample. ” He leaned over and slapped me on the back with a bit more enthusiasm than I was comfortable with. “Man, you still got it,” he said. “I heard you were back in town but didn’t believe it.

Not likely. Listen. I need you to focus. ” “Maybe Fiona could take up baking,” Nate said. ” “Just tell me what I need to know and I’ll let you back to your life of leisure and won’t even tell Fi about that baking remark. ” Nate said, “You’re the spy. ” And then he hung up. I called him back, but after twenty rings I figured he’d made his point. A woman wearing an outfit made entirely of pink and green terry cloth pulled her cart up beside me and started leafing through the cards. She was about my mother’s age, maybe a few years older, and she smelled vaguely of cigarettes and a floral perfume that immediately made my head hurt.

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