David Baldacci The Fix Novels & Stories

“But it establishes proximity and opportunity.” Everyone turned. Lucas set his briefcase down. “This is the kind of name that unravels cases,” he said. “Because they’re not villains. They’re fixers.” Elena’s voice was tight. “He came to my birthday once.” Lucas nodded. “That’s how fixers operate. They build trust so they’re present when things fracture.” Nathaniel’s hands clenched once, then relaxed. “So the advice he gave,” Nathaniel said. “About letting things settle. About not reopening wounds.”

"The recipient is an elite rogue tracker and assassin known in the syndicates as The Fixer. He specializes in making unwanted royal bloodlines completely disappear without a trace." Oscar’s amber eyes widened in sudden realization. He slammed his fist against the mantlepiece. "Damn it! My border patrols flagged a strange, chemical scent-blocker near the public playground yesterday morning. We thought it was just a passing rogue scavenger. It wasn't. The Fixer is already in Norwood Green." Amora stood up instantly, her maternal instincts flaring into high alert. "My children... he’s here for Zach and Heidi."

The anger in his voice was unmistakeable now. “Someone,” I narrowed my gaze to his face, my jaw ticking, “someone is lying at the hospital, pretending he didn’t stage his own fucking accident. Just after Olivia survived.” I shook my head in subtle desperation. “It’s not yet clear to you, is it?” I looked around. “Any of you?” The room was quiet for a while, and I pushed on relentlessly. “The Fixer is that detective, grandfather. The one you so trust. The same one you hired to look into the suspicious accident of your grandson. The same one he staged!”

"And you brought a guest. The famous Feya Baldwin." I didn't say anything. I let my hand go completely limp in Jaxson's grip, wishing I could disappear into the floorboards. "We're just grabbing a drink. Fancy seeing you here asshole. Don’t you have any seraphic halos to polish?," Jaxson said, as he dapped up Caleb. "Don't be like that, Captain," Caleb said, stepping directly into our path. He leaned against the counter, his gaze locking onto my face. "I was just surprised, that's all. The blogs are one thing, but seeing the Ice King actually holding hands with the campus ghost? It's a lot to process. Especially since nobody even knew you two walked in the same circles. Certainly not I, your

“You raised me. You’re still my dad, even if you don’t think you are. Blood doesn’t mean anything. It’s who shows up for you. You....you used to show up for me. Before you left. What are you doing here? I thought you were in Russia last I heard.” He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, then puked all over her fancy shoes. She sighed. “I know we’ve got to talk, but can you help me get him out of here? I think I know where he still lives.” The Fixer was a ghost story in the mafia. He was only called in when our own people couldn’t clean up the messes our people had made. He had no allegiance to anyone, though I had heard rumors of him having a family. But most said those were just rumors. At

" They exchanged glances for a few moments, before Ace finally turned around and left The Fixer's hidden The Fixer's hidden warehouse. He handed over the one million dollars he got from stealing Amanda, Jill and Jason's money in order to escape farther than New York. than New York. But faking death? Ace hasn't thought of that before. Meanwhile, inside his base camp, The Fixer was feeling good about the cash in front of him. It was a lot of money. He didn't even have to work hard to get the money, but the money came to him. Matt cleared his throat and tried to speak. "Sorry to interrupt your time, Boss. Can I ask you something? to you?" The Fixer raised one eyebrows, then stowed the money in

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.

That we weren’t broken. But the memories of the prison cell, of Camilla’s confusion and rejection, of the fire and the betrayal — they were stronger. “David,” I said firmly. I pushed against his chest, harder this time. He resisted for a moment, then slowly, reluctantly, let his arms drop. He didn’t step back, though. He stayed close, his gaze boring into mine, intense and pleading. “How?” he asked, his voice raw. “How do I fix this? Tell me what to do, Alice. I’ll give you anything. Money. The institute. The world. Just tell me how to make you forgive me.”