{"product_id":"never-go-back-isbn-9780440246329","title":"Never Go Back","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e#1 \u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLER • \u003cb\u003eDon’t miss the hit streaming series \u003ci\u003eReacher\u003c\/i\u003e! \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eNever Go Back\u003c\/i\u003e is a novel of action-charged suspense starring “one of the best thriller characters at work today” (\u003ci\u003eNewsweek\u003c\/i\u003e).\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Former military cop Jack Reacher makes it all the way from snowbound South Dakota to his destination in northeastern Virginia, near Washington, D.C.: the headquarters of his old unit, the 110th MP. The old stone building is the closest thing to a home he ever had.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Reacher is there to meet—in person—the new commanding officer, Major Susan Turner, so far just a warm, intriguing voice on the phone.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But it isn’t Turner behind the CO’s desk. And Reacher is hit with two pieces of shocking news, one with serious criminal consequences, and one too personal to even think about.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e When threatened, you can run or fight.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Reacher fights, aiming to find Turner and clear his name, barely a step ahead of the army, and the FBI, and the D.C. Metro police, and four unidentified thugs.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Combining an intricate puzzle of a plot and an exciting chase for truth and justice, Lee Child puts Reacher through his paces—and makes him question who he is, what he’s done, and the very future of his untethered life on the open road.“A breathless cross-country spree . . . some of the best, wiliest writing [Lee] Child has ever done . . . Child’s bodacious action hero, Jack Reacher, has already tramped through 17 novels and three e-book singles. But his latest, \u003ci\u003eNever Go Back,\u003c\/i\u003e may be the best desert island reading in the series. It’s exceptionally well plotted. And full of wild surprises. And wise about Reacher’s peculiar nature. And positively Bunyanesque in its admiring contributions to Reacher lore.”\u003cb\u003e—Janet Maslin, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Welcome to the relentless world of Jack Reacher and his impressive tendency to be in the wrong place at the right time. . . . Child has created an iconic character that other thriller writers try to emulate but don’t come close to matching. He has a talent for taking material that in the hands of other authors would be stale and making it seem fresh. . . . Tight and compelling . . . \u003ci\u003eNever Go Back\u003c\/i\u003e is one of Child’s best novels.”\u003cb\u003e—Associated Press\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An adrenaline-charged, action-packed thriller . . . impossible to put down.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Lansing State Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “The dialogue has never been sharper. . . . The pages turn themselves.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—San Antonio Express-News\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“For the pure pleasure of uncomplicated, nonstop action, no one touches Reacher.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Brilliant . . . Child never, ever slips. He keeps the action cranking better than anyone, but, best of all, he keeps us guessing about Reacher.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “One of the best in the series.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eLee Child\u003c\/b\u003e is the author of more than two dozen \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling Jack Reacher thrillers, with most having reached the #1 position, and the #1 bestselling complete Jack Reacher story collection, \u003ci\u003eNo Middle Name\u003c\/i\u003e. Foreign rights in the Reacher series have sold in one hundred territories. A native of England and a former television director, Lee Child lives in New York City and Wyoming.Chapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEventually they put Reacher in a car and drove him to a motel a mile away, where the night clerk gave him a room, which had all the features Reacher expected, because he had seen such rooms a thousand times before. There was a raucous through-the-wall heater, which would be too noisy to sleep with, which would save the owner money on electricity. There were low-watt bulbs in all the fixtures, likewise. There was a low-pile carpet that after cleaning would dry in hours, so the room could rent again the same day. Not that the carpet would be cleaned often. It was dark and patterned and ideal for concealing stains. As was the bedspread. No doubt the shower would be weak and strangled, and the towels thin, and the soap small, and the shampoo cheap. The furniture was made of wood, all dark and bruised, and the television set was small and old, and the curtains were gray with grime.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll as expected. Nothing he hadn’t seen a thousand times before.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut still dismal.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo before even putting the key in his pocket he turned around and went back out to the lot. The air was cold, and a little damp. The middle of the evening, in the middle of winter, in the northeastern corner of Virginia. The lazy Potomac was not far away. Beyond it in the east, D.C.’s glow lit up the clouds. The nation’s capital, where all kinds of things were going on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe car that had let him out was already driving away. Reacher watched its tail lights grow faint in the mist. After a moment they disappeared completely, and the world went quiet and still. Just for a minute. Then another car showed up, brisk and confident, like it knew where it was going. It turned into the lot. It was a plain sedan, dark in color. Almost certainly a government vehicle. It aimed for the motel office, but its headlight beams swung across Reacher’s immobile form, and it changed direction, and came straight at him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVisitors. Purpose unknown, but the news would be either good or bad.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe car stopped parallel with the building, as far in front of Reacher as his room was behind him, leaving him alone in the center of a space the size of a boxing ring. Two men got out of the car. Despite the chill they were dressed in T-shirts, tight and white, above the kind of athletic pants sprinters peel off seconds before a race. Both men looked more than six feet and two hundred pounds. Smaller than Reacher, but not by much. Both were military. That was clear. Reacher could tell by their haircuts. No civilian barber would be as pragmatic or brutal. The market wouldn’t allow it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe guy from the passenger side tracked around the hood and formed up with the driver. The two of them stood there, side by side. Both wore sneakers on their feet, big and white and shapeless. Neither had been in the Middle East recently. No sunburn, no squint lines, no stress and strain in their eyes. Both were young, somewhere south of thirty. Technically Reacher was old enough to be their father. They were NCOs, he thought. Specialists, probably, not sergeants. They didn’t look like sergeants. Not wise enough. The opposite, in fact. They had dull, blank faces.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe guy from the passenger side said, “Are you Jack Reacher?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReacher said, “Who’s asking?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We are.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And who are you?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’re your legal advisors.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhich they weren’t, obviously. Reacher knew that. Army lawyers don’t travel in pairs and breathe through their mouths. They were something else. Bad news, not good. In which case immediate action was always the best bet. Easy enough to mime sudden comprehension and an eager approach and a hand raised in welcome, and easy enough to let the eager approach become unstoppable momentum, and to turn the raised hand into a scything blow, elbow into the left-hand guy’s face, hard and downward, followed by a stamp of the right foot, as if killing an imaginary cockroach had been the whole point of the manic exercise, whereupon the bounce off the stamp would set up the same elbow backhand into the right-hand guy’s throat, one, two, three, smack, stamp, smack, game over.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEasy enough. And always the safest approach. Reacher’s mantra was: Get your retaliation in first. Especially when outnumbered two-to-one against guys with youth and energy on their side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut. He wasn’t sure. Not completely. Not yet. And he couldn’t afford a mistake of that nature. Not then. Not under the circumstances. He was inhibited. He let the moment pass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe said, “So what’s your legal advice?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Conduct unbecoming,” the guy said. “You brought the unit into disrepute. A court martial would hurt us all. So you should get the hell out of town, right now. And you should never come back again.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No one mentioned a court martial.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Not yet. But they will. So don’t stick around for it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’m under orders.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“They couldn’t find you before. They won’t find you now. The army doesn’t use skip tracers. And no skip tracer could find you anyway. Not the way you seem to live.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReacher said nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe guy said, “So that’s our legal advice.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReacher said, “Noted.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You need to do more than note it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Do I?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Because we’re offering an incentive.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What kind?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Every night we find you still here, we’re going to kick your ass.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Are you?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Starting tonight. So you’ll get the right general idea about what to do.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReacher said, “You ever bought an electrical appliance?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What’s that got to do with anything?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I saw one once, in a store. It had a yellow label on the back. It said if you messed with it you ran the risk of death or serious injury.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“So?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pretend I’ve got the same kind of label.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’re not worried about you, old man.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOld man. For no good reason Reacher saw an image of his father in his mind. Somewhere sunny. Okinawa, possibly. Stan Reacher, born in Laconia, New Hampshire, a Marine captain serving in Japan, with a wife and two teenage sons. Reacher and his brother had called him the old man, and he had seemed old, even though at that point he must have been ten years younger than Reacher was that night.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Turn around,” Reacher said. “Go back wherever you came from. You’re in over your heads.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Not how we see it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I used to do this for a living,” Reacher said. “But you know that, right?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo response.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I know all the moves,” Reacher said. “I invented some of them.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo reply.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReacher still had his key in his hand. Rule of thumb: don’t attack a guy who just came through a door that locks. A bunch is better, but even a single key makes a pretty good weapon. Socket the head against the palm, poke the shaft out between the index and middle fingers, and you’ve got a fairly decent knuckleduster.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut. They were just dumb kids. No need to get all bent out of shape. No need for torn flesh and broken bones.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReacher put his key in his pocket.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTheir sneakers meant they had no plans to kick him. No one kicks things with soft white athletic shoes. No point. Unless they were aiming to deliver blows with their feet merely for the points value alone. Like one of those martial arts fetishes with a name like something off a Chinese food menu. Tae Kwon Do, and so on. All very well at the Olympic Games, but hopeless on the street. Lifting your leg like a dog at a hydrant was just begging to get beat. Begging to get tipped over and kicked into unconsciousness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDid these guys even know that? Were they looking at his own feet? Reacher was wearing a pair of heavy boots. Comfortable, and durable. He had bought them in South Dakota. He planned to keep on wearing them all winter long.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe said, “I’m going inside now.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo response.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe said, “Goodnight.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo response.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReacher half turned and half stepped back, toward his door, a fluid quarter circle, shoulders and all, and like he knew they would the two guys moved toward him, faster than he was moving, off-script and involuntary, ready to grab him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReacher kept it going long enough to let their momentum establish, and then he whipped back through the reverse quarter circle toward them, by which time he was moving just as fast as they were, two hundred and fifty pounds about to collide head-on with four hundred, and he kept on twisting and threw a long left hook at the left-hand guy. It caught him as designed, hard on the ear, and the guy’s head snapped sideways and bounced off his partner’s shoulder, by which time Reacher was already throwing a right-hand uppercut under the partner’s chin. It hit like a how-to diagram and the guy’s head went up and back the same way his buddy’s had bounced around, and almost in the same second. Like they were puppets, and the puppeteer had sneezed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBoth of them stayed on their feet. The left-hand guy was wobbling around like a man on a ship, and the right-hand guy was stumbling backward. The left-hand guy was all unstable and up on his heels and his center mass was open and unprotected. Reacher popped a clubbing right into his solar plexus, hard enough to drive the breath out of him, soft enough not to cause lasting neurological damage. The guy folded up and crouched and hugged his knees. Reacher stepped past him and went after the right-hand guy, who saw him coming and swung a feeble right of his own. Reacher clouted it aside with his left forearm and repeated the clubbing right to the solar plexus.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe guy folded in half, just the same.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter that it was easy enough to nudge them around until they were facing in the right direction, and then to use the flat of his boot sole to shove them toward their car, first one, and then the other. They hit head-on, pretty hard, and they went down flat. They left shallow dents in the door panels. They lay there, gasping, still conscious.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA dented car to explain, and headaches in the morning. That was all. Merciful, under the circumstances. Benevolent. Considerate. Soft, even.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOld man.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOld enough to be their father.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBy that point Reacher had been in Virginia less than three hours.#1 New York Times bestseller; Author of Past Tense","brand":"Dell","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304635519205,"sku":"NP9780440246329","price":10.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780440246329.jpg?v=1767733637","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/never-go-back-isbn-9780440246329","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}