Bullseye David Baldacci Novels & Stories

"The assassin who attacked you in Russia has been caught. We found out the connection, sir." "Who?" I said coldly, although I could clearly guess at this point. "Ambrose Ryder and Brandon Valdez," he said, confirming my guess. He continued, "We've already reached the airport and are coming to New York, sir." "Hmm." I hung up. I looked at the clear night sky. Finally, the game that started twenty-five years ago is coming to an end. See you soon, my well-wishers.... ******* BELLATRIX..... The next day, I woke up entangled with my husband in bed. I felt so delighted to see him beside me!

If all my predictions are correct, then David will spend the night there for the next week. 'If you're asking if Lizzbeth will also be there, I'm not sure. Because during the time I was scouting his residence, I never found her. I guess he hid Lizzbeth somewhere unreachable.' That was the content of the letter written by my hired detective, whom I had ordered to investigate David's residence since the first day of my defeat. "Alright. With this, our destination is clear. I will go to this bar and kill him there," I said with determination. I picked up a lighter and immediately burned this letter, along with killing the news delivery eagle.

Patel said by way of greeting, sliding into the chair opposite Sarah. "I've had an interesting week," Sarah replied dryly. Patel leaned forward. "The bureau has a BOLO out on you and Diego Castillo. They're saying you helped Vincent's men attack federal agents." "Those weren't federal agents," Sarah countered. "They were Blackwood's private team." Patel winced at the name. "How do you know about him?" "I know a lot of things now," Sarah said. "About Kingmaker. About Senator Chambers. About Vincent's real work for the government."

He turned and communicated the plan to the individuals at the desks, who swiftly relayed the messages to the field team. Agent Dickens made two cups of coffee and handed one to Jorden, leaning against the wall behind them. “It’s going to be a bloodbath.” Agent Jorden pulled her hair into a bun on top of her head and accepted the coffee, her eyes fixed on the screen displaying a small illuminated boat on the outskirts of Venice. “What else can you expect from a criminal like Vector Alfonso? I’m just pissed he won’t be there to witness the shitstorm that’s about to rain down on him. I’d love to see the look on his face when he realizes the damn attack he ordered this morning is gonna blow up r

Bruce sighed, “You are soft hearted.” “Really?” I asked, staring at him. “If you ask me, I think I am being logical right now. Do you seriously think Baldwin will fall if Kenzie reveals their arson plot?” There was no response from Baldwin. I continued, my voice higher this time, “We are talking about Baldwin McAllen here. He has everyone on his payroll. Politicians, the police, the prosecutors, the judges, everyone in every important circle. Do you really think a man like that would crumble because of mere arson? You would be naive to believe that.”

“Dinner out here. On the balcony. It’s better company than the walls. The night is cold, and it is only a matter of time before winter hits. And normally, that might call for no more dinner in the balcony if it is snowing. I wouldn’t mind, but I am not the one who puts the rules in this place.” “At this point, I believe that you do.” He said, making me smile. For a second, I thought he might refuse, Dominic Salvatore, the Alpha who dined behind closed doors, at a table filled with silverware that he most likely didn’t even bother using… not under the stars. But then something in his face softened, almost too subtle to catch. “Dinner on the balcony,” he repeated. “You drive a hard bargain.” “

********* That night, Jack drove through the rain with his Colt on the seat beside him and a thousand questions in his head. Evelyn Chase’s murder wasn’t random. Neither was George Benton’s death. The same names kept circling back—Bill Darcy. Sandra Harris. Chris Newton. And now Lilian—the woman standing unknowingly at the center of it all. He crushed the cigarette under his heel, muttering to himself: “Everyone’s got blood on their hands in this city. The only question is whose name is written in the ledger.” Thunder rolled overhead. And somewhere across town, in the shadows of a penthouse window, Bill Darcy was already pouring himself a drink—smiling, because he knew the game had just chan

David pauses, reaches forward and flicks the safety off the gun with one finger, then sets it back in exactly the same position on the desk between them, barrel pointed at Elias’s chest, and folds his hands on top of the desk above it. “So I’m going to ask you one last time,” he says, his eyes boring directly into Elias’s soul, “and I would strongly advise you to think very carefully before you open your mouth… How do you know Carver Mayfield?” The room is very quiet. Elias swallows hard, the weight of the handgun staring back at him pressing against his mind. His brain scrambles for a secondary defense, a deeper cover story that can survive David’s network of spies. He opens his mouth to sp

And David knew, the real war had only just begun. The revelation about 'The Architect' detonated David's carefully constructed peace in Bali. The serene beauty of the island, which had only moments ago felt like a sanctuary, now felt like a cage. The weight of his father's death, an old, raw wound he had thought was caused by fate or petty crime, was now revealed to be the deliberate act of a master manipulator. David understood, with chilling clarity, that his entire life, his career, his descent into the underworld, and even his eventual quest for peace, had been orchestrated as part of this man’s grand design.

His gaze,cold, cynical, made my skin crawl. He lowered his glasses and placed them on the desk. “I assume this is what the call was about.” “I need your help,” I said, barely above a whisper. He arched a brow, resting both elbows on the table, fingers rubbing the bald spot on his head like he was polishing a thought. “I figured. Sit.” I obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair across from him. The study smelled of stale books and old tobacco, making my stomach churn. “Blackmail,” he muttered, tossing the letter aside like it disgusted him. “Barry’s in prison, but he still has reach. If this goes public,your deal with the Davidsons, all of it,it’s over.”