Payback

FROM USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR J. ROBERT KENNEDY

THE VICE PRESIDENT’S DAUGHTER HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED IN EBOLA RAVAGED SIERRA LEONE AND DELTA HAS BEEN UNLEASHED ON THOSE RESPONSIBLE!

Doctor Sarah Henderson, daughter of the Vice President, is kidnapped from an Ebola clinic, triggering an all-out effort to retrieve her
by America’s elite Delta Force just hours after a senior government official from Sierra Leone is assassinated in a horrific terrorist attack while
visiting the United States. As Sarah battles impossible odds and struggles to prove her worth to her captors who have promised she will die, she’s
forced to make unthinkable decisions to not only try to save her own life, but those dying from one of the most vicious diseases known to mankind,
all in the hopes an unleashed Delta Force can save her before her captors enact their horrific plan on an unsuspecting United States.

Payback, the first installment of the new Delta Force Unleashed series based on the internationally bestselling James Acton Thrillers series,
propels the Delta Force’s Bravo Team into its most challenging mission yet where they face an enemy with an unknown agenda and an invisible virus
that threatens to kill not only them, but the ones they hold dearest.

USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has been ranked by Amazon as the #1 Bestselling Action Adventure
novelist based upon combined sales. He is the author of over twenty-five international bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers series of which the first
installment,
The Protocol
, has been on the bestseller lists since its release, including occupying the number one spot for three months.
He lives with his wife and daughter and writes full-time.

"If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count,
most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J Robert Kennedy."

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Get the J. Robert Kennedy Starter Library by joining
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Find out more at
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.

For the nearly 500 healthcare workers who have died fighting Ebola.

“People are still dying horrible deaths in an outbreak that has already killed thousands.
We can't let our guard down and allow this to become double failure, a response that was slow to begin with
and is ill-adapted in the end. It is extremely disappointing that states with biological-disaster response
capacities have chosen not to utilize them. How is it that the international community has left the response
to Ebola—now a transnational threat—to doctors, nurses and charity workers?”

Dr. Joanne Liu, Médecins Sans Frontières
January 13th, 2015

Joeblow, Liberia is a town so small it doesn’t even appear on most
maps. Yet if you were to Google it today, you would find hundreds of hits, for
it is now a town that should never be forgotten.

A town
where just recently, the last mother died.

Since
the Ebola outbreak began in late 2013, early 2014, every single mother in the
small town has died, it tradition that the women of the village take care of
the sick, and without the proper knowledge or equipment, these caregivers
inevitably contracted the virus themselves, again being cared for by the
surviving women.

I wonder
who took care of the last mother.

This
book deals with difficult topics, with much of the imagery taken from actual
accounts, photos and reports of the outbreak. It was difficult at times to
write, and I am sure will be difficult at times to read.

But this
virus cannot be ignored.

And
discussing it must not be avoided simply because it makes us uncomfortable.

Howard University Hospital, Washington, D.C.

“I’m afraid it’s bad news.”

Command
Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson felt his chest tighten at the words. To
say he was surprised would be a lie. He had known all along what the answer
would be, but until it was confirmed, they had all been in a holding pattern,
waiting, wondering, helpless. He could hear the feet shuffling in the room, no
one sitting, no one talking, everyone waiting, hoping for the best, fully
expecting the worst.

And now
that their worst fears were confirmed, it made no difference.

They
were still helpless.

Their
friend was still dying.

Dawson
had known him for years—many years—and had never seen fear on his face until
today. And he thought nothing less of him, none of them did. If he were to die
today from what had happened, he would die a hero. History would decide whether
or not their overall mission had been a success, but history could never
question that this man had done the right thing, had put the life of others
before his own, despite the fact he had a family, a son.

He tore
his eyes away from his friend, a friend who felt a million miles away on the
other side of the isolation chamber’s glass walls as he felt the tiny hand in
his squeeze harder. He looked down at the little boy whose father lay so close
yet so far away.

And the
grip on his chest ratcheted another notch tighter as he saw the fear on his Godson’s
face. He looked at his friend’s wife, Shirley, a woman he had also known for
years, a woman he respected immensely, who had never questioned her husband’s career
choice, his constantly being called away at the last minute, the nature of the
job not only preventing him from telling her to where, but making it necessary for
them both to lie to their family and friends.

For no
one could know they were Delta Force. Officially 1st Special Forces Operational
Detachment-Delta, they were America’s elite Special Forces, created in 1977 by
Colonel Charles Beckwith as an answer to the growing threat of terrorism around
the world. After an ignominious beginning in the deserts of Iran during the
Iran Hostage Crisis—known as Operation Eagle Claw—they had served with honor
and distinction, successfully carrying out hundreds of missions over the
ensuing decades.

Their failures
were few.

And
despite his friend now lying in a hospital bed, dying, there was no way he was
going to let anyone think his friend had failed, even if he himself had. Dawson
blamed himself for what had happened. He had been too slow, their enemy far
better prepared, far better connected than they had anticipated.

They had
been betrayed.

And he
should have anticipated it.

He
exchanged glances with the rest of the team, all their faces impassive, their
concern revealed only by their eyes and their silence. Shirley tried to speak
but the words got caught in her throat. She turned to Dawson, her eyes
beseeching him to take over.

“What’s
the word, Doc?”

The
doctor’s face was grim with a hint of fear, this the man who had taken care of
his friend since the moment he had arrived.

And he,
along with several others on Bravo Team, had all been exposed.

“The
testing confirms Mr. Belme has Ebola.”

Shirley
gasped out a cry and nearly collapsed, two of his men catching her and helping
her into a chair. Bryson began to cry, more because his mother was crying
rather than an understanding of what was really going on. He hugged Dawson’s
leg, hard. Dawson patted him on the head as he battled to control his own
emotions.

“What’s
the prognosis? I’ve heard the fatality rate is up to ninety-percent.”

“With
the massive dose he received, and the method in which it was delivered—I
hesitate to guess.”

Dawson
looked at his friend through the glass. He was asleep and hadn’t heard the verdict.
He’d at least have a few more minutes of peace before the horror of his new
reality would set in.

And
Dawson swore he’d kill the man responsible.

The man
responsible for infecting the best friend he had ever had.

Master
Sergeant Mike “Red” Belme.

Across from the Norfolk Waterside Marriott Convention Center

Norfolk, Virginia

Four days earlier

“Let me take the shot, BD.”

Command
Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson shook his head, peering through his
binoculars at the scene across the street. He was prone on a rooftop across
from the Norfolk Waterside Marriott Convention Center with three of his men and
a sniper team from his unit. Sergeant Carl “Niner” Sung, the best sniper he had
ever known, had made the request. A request Dawson so desperately wanted to
approve.

“Negative.
Kill him, the rest of the hostages die.”

“But I’d
feel
so
good putting an extra hole in this bastard’s head.”

“You’ll
get your chance before the day’s out.”

They had
been training at The Unit just a few hours ago when word had come down the pipe
that the Secretary of Defense had been taken hostage along with another
twenty-two guests at a conference. Security had been tight but light, relying
more on the small size of the conference, its rather contained location, and
the fact no one knew he was going to be there.

But
somebody had known.

And
leaked it.

Their
best guess was eight hostiles, the security team forced to stand down the
moment a waiter serving drinks placed a weapon against the Secretary’s head.

It was a
no win situation. If the detail of eight were made up of his own men, he would
have taken the shot knowing full well that his team would eliminate anyone else
that popped up.

But that
was what they trained for, day in and day out, and on far too many occasions
actually put into practice. They were all Delta Force operators, part of Bravo
Team, led by him, though command structure in Delta was quite loose. They were
all Non-Commissioned Officers, NCO’s, sergeants, the grunts of the trade.
Officers might run the wars, but a soldier in the trench didn’t run to his
Lieutenant for advice when his ass was under fire, he ran to his sergeant.
Sergeants were the true leaders of men on the battlefield, experienced, well
trained, and used to the trenches where the men they led suffered, not the
command tents the officers usually found themselves in.

His men
were Delta Force, the most highly trained group of soldiers in the world, and
the only military unit in the entire US Armed Forces that could legally operate
on American soil, the President having the sole authority to suspend Posse
Comitatus if he saw fit.

Which
was why they were legally present here today beyond just an advisory capacity.
Local SWAT had been pulled back, and were none too pleased at first, but Dawson
had assuaged their commander’s ruffled feathers fairly easily.

“If this
turns into a Charlie-Foxtrot and the Secretary of Defense gets killed, do you
want us to take the blame, or you?”

The man
hadn’t replied, but Dawson could tell he was processing the words.

“If we
screw up, we take the blame. If we succeed, we were never here, you take the
credit. Either way, it’s win-win for you.”

The man
pursed his lips then sighed. “You’re Delta, aren’t you?”

Dawson
shook his head with a slight smile. “Never heard of them. Some kind of airline
or something?”

The man
had laughed, the ice broken. “I’m a former Ranger. So are some of my men. If
Delta—or
whoever
—wants to take over, we’d be honored to back them up.”