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Ebook Make Me by Lee Child PDF, EPUB Free Download. Make Me: Jack Reacher 20 by Lee Child - Free eBook Online. Fiction BooksCrime BooksCrime Personal (Jack Reacher 19): swiss-city.info: Lee Child: More information. Editorial Reviews. Review. “The best one yet.”—Stephen King “Reacher is the stuff of myth, Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like bookmarks, note Kindle Store · Kindle eBooks · Mystery, Thriller & Suspense $ Read with Our Free App; Audiobook. $ Free. 1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Jack Reacher returns in another fast- moving, action-packed, Personal by Lee Child . Buy the Audiobook Download.

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Terms of Use. Best Seller. Lee Child's Jack Reacher Books by Lee Child Buy the Ebook: The Christmas Scorpion: A Jack Reacher Story. The Midnight. Here are the Top 10 ebooks downloaded from the Free Library's OverDrive Digital Personal (fiction, mystery suspense thriller) by Lee Child Jack Reacher returns in the latest seat-of-your-pants suspense ride novel from Lee Child. What ebooks are you looking forward to downloading and reading?. You can leave the army, but the army doesn't leave you. Not always. Not completely, notes Jack Reacher—and sure enough, the retired military cop is soon.

Dec 01, Pages Buy. Dec 01, Pages. He never looks for trouble… But trouble never stops looking for him. Not much of a welcome. At least not lately. But soon after his arrival, the man is murdered. They are truly perfect crimes.

Leila Slimani. Only Human. Sylvain Neuvel. Maigret and the Good People of Montparnasse. Georges Simenon. The Killer in Me. Olivia Kiernan. The Last Time I Lied. Riley Sager. The Forbidden Door. David Lagercrantz. Twisted Prey. John Sandford. Bad Men and Wicked Women. Eric Jerome Dickey. The Other Americans. Laila Lalami. Blood Oath. Linda Fairstein. Wild Card. Stuart Woods. My Lovely Wife.

Samantha Downing. Josh Malerman. Celtic Empire. Clive Cussler and Dirk Cussler. The Good Detective. John McMahon. The Municipalists. The Parade. Greeks Bearing Gifts. But I never found out. Because right next to the obituaries are the personal ads. Which as always were mostly veterans looking for other veterans.

Dozens of ads, all the same. Including one with my name in it. Right there, center of the page, a boxed column inch, five words printed bold: Jack Reacher call Rick Shoemaker.

Which later on made me feel a little lame. He had to be. He had survived a long time. A very long time. He had been around forever. Twenty years ago he already looked a hundred. A tall, thin, gaunt, cadaverous man, who moved like he might collapse at any moment, like a broken stepladder. He was no one's idea of an army general. More like a professor. Or an anthropologist.

Certainly his thinking had been sound. Reacher stays under the radar, which means buses and trains and waiting rooms and diners, which, coincidentally or not, is the natural economic habitat for enlisted men and women, who buy the Army Times ahead of any other publication in the PX, and who can be relied upon to spread the paper around, like birds spread seeds from berries.

And he could rely on me to pick up the paper. Sooner or later.

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Because I needed to know. As a means of communication, as a way of making contact, from what he knew, and from what he could guess, then maybe he would think ten or twelve consecutive weeks of personal ads might generate a small but realistic chance of success. But it worked the first time out. One day after the paper was printed. Which is why I felt lame later on. I was predictable. Probably his second in command by now. Easy enough to ignore.

But I owed Shoemaker a favor. And which was why I would have to answer it. Seattle was dry when I got out of the bus. And warm. But there was one down by the fish market, so I stood in the salty breeze and the smell of the sea, and I dialed a toll-free number at the Pentagon. A number learned by heart long ago. A special line, for emergencies only. But we prefer it when people volunteer the information themselves.

We find that makes the subsequent conversation go better. What do you see directly ahead? No one really knows why coffee is such a big deal in Seattle. Or maybe the water is right. Or the elevation, or the temperature, or the humidity. But whatever, the result is a coffee shop on every block, and a four-figure annual tab for a serious enthusiast.

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The shop across the light from the pay phone was representative. I got a plain house blend, black, no sugar, in the middle-sized go-cup, not the enormous grande bucket some folks like, and a slab of lemon pound cake to go with it, and I sat alone on a hard wooden chair at a table for two.

Which made him Navy, because twenty-eight minutes was pretty fast, and the Navy is right there in Seattle. And his car was dark blue. It was a low-spec domestic sedan, not very desirable, but polished to a high shine. The guy himself was nearer forty than twenty, and hard as a nail.

He was in civilian clothes. A blue blazer over a blue polo shirt, and khaki chino pants. The blazer was worn thin and the shirt and the pants had been washed a thousand times. A Senior Chief Petty Officer, probably. He stepped into the coffee shop with a blank-eyed all-in-one scan of the room, like he had a fifth of a second to identify friend or foe before he started shooting. Obviously his briefing must have been basic and verbal, straight out of some old personnel file, but he had me at six-five two-fifty.

Everyone else in the shop was Asian, mostly women and very petite. Reacher, then? Brigadier General Richard Shoemaker, sir. The blue car was a Chevrolet Impala with police hubs and cloth seats. The polish was the freshest thing on it. The guy in the blazer drove me through the downtown streets and got on I-5 heading south. The same way the bus had come in.

Lee Child’s Jack Reacher Books 1-6

We drove back past Boeing Field once again, and past the Sea-Tac airport once again, and onward toward Tacoma. Neither did I. We both sat there mute, like we were in a no-talking competition and serious about winning.

I watched out the window. All green, hills and sea and trees alike.

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We passed Tacoma, and slowed ahead of where the women in uniform had gotten out of the bus, leaving their Army Times behind. We took the same exit. The signs showed nothing ahead except three very small towns and one very large military base. Chances were therefore good we were heading for Fort Lewis. Politicians will do anything to save a buck. I was expecting a little back-and-forth at the gate, because the gate belonged jointly to the army and the Air Force, and the car and the driver were both Navy, and I was absolutely nobody.

Only the Marine Corps and the United Nations were missing. We swept in, and hooked a left, and hooked a right, and were waved through a second gate, and then the car was right out there on the tarmac, dwarfed by huge C transport planes, like a mouse in a forest.

We drove under a giant gray wing and headed out over open blacktop straight for a small white airplane standing alone. A corporate thing.

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A business jet. A Lear, or a Gulfstream, or whatever rich people buy these days. The paint winked in the sun. There was no writing on it, apart from a tail number.

Very few, but John Kott—an American marksman gone bad—is one of them. Not this time. Not Nice. Reacher never gets too close. But now a killer is making it personal. Child does a masterly job of bringing his adventure to life with endless surprises and fierce suspense.

I read every one as soon as it appears. All his novels have been optioned for major… More about Lee Child. Read An Excerpt. Paperback 2 —. Buy the Audiobook Download: Apple Audible downpour eMusic audiobooks.

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