Jame Patterson Novels & Stories

Matthew was out on deployment, and I was left with no one, only my thoughts and my burning rage for revenge. Buddha was the first to give me a hug. The rest of the team knew I needed time to sort through my thoughts, but there was nothing like a Buddha hug. Buddha, also known as Patrick Parsons, was a walking contradiction. He looked like the Rock with his bald bronze head, packed muscles, and tattoos cascading up his arms and all over his chest. He looked like a beast, but in reality, he was a gentle giant. Although his personality was soft. His artillery skills were one of the sharpest in the world. His knowledge for weapons and ammunition were out of this world.

In the morning, Camdyn entered Patrick's room and found him lost in thought, staring at the ceiling. He approached and asked, "Pat, have you truly decided to let Aimee treat you?" Patrick turned his gaze towards Camdyn and inquired, "Grandpa, don't youtrust her?"Aimee is a good girl, and she takes her work seriously. But I still think it would be best to consult with other experts to come up with a better plan,"Camdyn replied. Aimee had been here last night, and while Camdyn was glad that Patrick had accepted

I said and Mr Patterson only shook his head while he led us to the living room. The house was like any normal house and it mildly reminded me of my home back in Cruel-Crown. I took a seat but Adam chose to stand, Mr Patterson sat opposite of me on another couch and looked lost. I looked at him one more time and contemplated whether the innocent-looking man in front of me could commit the horrendous crime of hitting his daughters. Looks deceive, it all came down to that because this man's looks could deceive anyone. He looked as if he was the one who was suffering. He probably was indeed suffering, I could not even imagine the thought of knowing that my mate is no more but this man had lost h

The word coming out of Jax’s mouth, the word the one he hated, and the one he feared, and the one he despises with all of his being, directed at him, pulled some sort of trigger in Finn Pattison, making his breath catch in his throat. . . TBC Written by Authoress Kamara

James was clearly unhappy with their sudden appearance. Cheryl was exceptionally annoyed by the old man’s words too, her face was filled with disgust. ‘What do you mean by ‘spinster’? ‘I just have high standards for men!’ James replied, “What brings you here, Wilson? What makes you think I’d welcome you at my doorstep? Were you banned from working in Michigan? Is that why?” This old man was Patrick Wilson, he had quite a history with James. The two used to be apprentices under a famous doctor, they were like godbrothers. James was older than Patrick, so became the older brother.

"You have trespassed into the Valemont soil. You have taken my son. Tell me who ordered it, or I will peel the hide from your bones before the sun rises too high." The man chuckled, the deep phlegmy sound rattling in his broad chest. "Threaten me with your claws, boy. I hunted the abominations of your rejected mate’s bloodline when your father was just claiming his pack. I am Patrick. St. Patrick to those who consider me a savior of this world. Your fangs mean nothing to the man who has spent fifty years destroying the taint of the Nullifiers."

"Never sell information to the Russians? Never help them target my wife?" "I didn't!" His voice rose. "I swear on my life, I didn't help anyone target your wife. I don't even know what you're talking about." CATARINA I watched from the monitor in the adjacent room, my eyes tracking every micro-expression on Patrick's face. Jameson was good—controlled, methodical, intimidating without laying a hand on the man. But he wasn't trained to read body language the way I was. Patrick was lying. Not about everything. But about something.

"Did you write down their names?" "I did not know their names at the time," Mrs. Patterson replied while continuing to scan the page. "But I described them in detail in case it became important later." She read directly from the journal. "The first man was tall with dark hair and a scar above his left eyebrow. The second man was shorter but broader with hands that looked like they had seen violence. Both men carried themselves like they were used to people being afraid of them."

At thirty-two, Andrew Linton had done a lot of things—both brave and cowardly—but he hadn't done anything of this sort. Declan Partridge was no ordinary man; at thirty-six, he commanded more than two thousand workers in more than ten countries as the chairman and CEO of Pattron Groups. He was formidable. And delivering the message Andrew had would probably be deadly, maybe not to himself but certainly to Lennon Patterson Jr.

I must. I open the door, expecting Ira or some girl, instead I see a man in a crisp gray suit standing in front of me. I blink in confusion. “Yes?” “Miss Riley. I am James Patterson.” He forwards his hand and my mind screams not to shake it. His expensive tailored suit, trimmed gray hair and neatly shaved face gives me a sense of foreboding. It’s all too familiar. Just like Mikolaj fuckin Josef, this man is scary. Not in looks, but in personality.