CUTTER GROGAN SERIES MEGA OFFER
MEGA OFFER - ALL SEVEN EBOOKS IN THE CUTTER GROGAN SERIES + 3 ZEB CARTER NOVELLAS
OVER 40% OFF!
Cutter Grogan was a former special forces operator. He's New York's toughest PI. They
call him The Fixer.
When the law can't help, Cutter can!
'Ty Patterson is up there with Lee Child, David Baldacci, Gregg Hurwitz and other thriller greats!'
'The fictional equivalent of The Equalizer movies. But better!'
7 ebook thrillers in a unique PI/action/adventure/thriller genre along with three Zeb Carter novellas
(Ebook orders are non-refundable. All ebooks will be delivered to your email via BookFunnel. Check your email after purchase)
This bundle contains
All seven thrillers in the Cutter Grogan Series
The three Zeb Carter Novellas (action/adventure short stories)
The collection includes:
Cutter Grogan Thrillers
- Powder Burn
Zeb Carter Novellas
The collection will be delivered by BookFunnel. After ordering, check your inbox for an email from BookFunnel which will have download instructions
Delta Forces operator Cutter Grogan fought for his country.
He gave his all and has the losses and the scars to show.
Now, he's waging another fight.
For those whom the system has failed.
Cutter served in the world's most dangerous hotspots and sacrificed everything for his country.
His military file has more redactions than words.
That life is behind him. He's a fixer, now. He uses his specialist skills to help those whom the system let down.
When a mother wants him to free her son from the grasp of drug dealers, it sounds like a simple assignment.
Knock some heads, give a stern talking to the delinquent. Walk away.
But nothing's ever that simple.
When the most vicious gang in New York is involved in a conspiracy that can destroy the country's foundations, he has a choice to make.
He can back off. Or, he can clean up.
No one does vengeance like Cutter Grogan. He's made it part of his Fixing business.
When his friends are killed in Los Angeles, in gang violence, he makes it personal
The call comes just as Cutter Grogan, the Fixer, has completed yet another mission.
Arnedra Jones, his business partner and friend, has been killed in LA.
He can mourn and let the LAPD investigate the murder. That's not who he is, though.
He decides to take a hand and finds himself in a world of vicious gangs, suspicious allies and a fight he's made his own.
Alone, outgunned and outnumbered by a significant margin, Cutter can back down and walk away.
Or, he can start a war.
The decision is easy to make.
Executing it, isn't.
In every previous mission, Cutter Grogan has always known who his enemies were.
In Washington DC, everyone is gunning for him.
Amy Breland, Speaker of the House of Representatives, is one of the most powerful people in the country. When Lauren, her grand-daughter, goes missing, she could have turned to the FBI or the Metropolitan Police for help.
She calls Cutter Grogan.
He finds out why, when he arrives in DC.
Beneath the surface of the centre of power, he finds juice of a different kind. That wielded by predators who turn him into the most wanted person in the country. Which makes him wonder if there's more to his mission than finding a missing person.
He's trapped in DC, hunted by gunmen, pursued by law enforcement, and chased by old enemies.
That's when he's most dangerous. However, even his lethal skills may not be enough this time.
Cutter Grogan came to Syria to search for a missing woman.
He found old enemies who greeted him with violence
A missing woman in the Middle East isn't the assignment Cutter would take on, but when an old client makes the request, he can't refuse.
Samira Latif's disappearance is shrouded in darkness. His client doesn't have much information for him. The missing woman's connection to one of the most powerful people in the US remains unexplained.
On arriving in Syria, he finds everything he was told was a lie. His old enemies haven't forgotten him and have laid out a welcome.
Was he set up from the start?
An Afghan informer who refuses to speak to anyone but Cutter Grogan.
Where the reception he gets isn't what he was expecting.
It isn't an assignment Cutter would normally take on; go to Paris to speak to an informer he knows nothing about. The FBI has ordered him to, however. Which means whatever intel she has, is critical.
Fly in, talk to her, fly out, report back to the Feds.
A two day job, he reckons. No sweat. He loves Paris and looks forward to his visit.
The first inkling he has that the assignment isn't a walk in the park, are the gunmen who burst through his hotel room.
San Diego was a powder keg waiting to explode.
Cutter Grogan was the spark to light it.
Alejandra 'Aleja' Gutierrez died in San Diego.
An accident, the police said.
Murdered, her mother insisted.
Cutter figures she is mistaken. He'll visit the city however, meet the investigating officers and get back to Jenna Gutierrez.
In San Diego, he finds there is a Russian bratva waiting for him. The Sheriff wants him out of town. Unidentifiable people are tailing him. And that's not to mention the thugs who attacked him in New York soon after his meeting with Jenna.
Everyone seems to be out to kill him and his luck is running out.
Will he survive long enough to know why everyone wants him dead?
Cutter Grogan had an uneasy relationship with law enforcement. The police had rules. He had none.
And so he was surprised when NYPD Detective Gina Difiore and FBI SAC Peyton Quindica came to him for help.
He couldn't refuse. They were his closest friends even though they wouldn't hesitate to nail his ass if they had proof of his law-breaking.
The case led him to the underbelly of the country, where national and international politics, killers and technology conspired.
To a choice he had to make.
His friends or his moral code.
If he chose to live by his values, he would have to kill Difiore and Quindica.
If you like Lee Child, Gregg Hurwitz and David Baldacci, you'll love Ty Patterson's storytelling.
'USA Today Bestselling Author Ty Patterson sets the benchmark in thriller writing'
Excerpt from Break:
Everything could be used as a weapon.
The covers and spine of a hardback novel. A rolled-up newspaper. The points of a folded sheet of paper. Any everyday object could be used to either attack or block.
Cutter Grogan’s eyes took in the surroundings as he walked down Lafayette Street, noting what could be used for offense or defense. That umbrella someone had discarded in a trashcan. The empty cartons on the sidewalk outside a store. That vandalized phone booth on the corner with Grand Street—it could be used as cover.
It was automatic, a habit so deeply ingrained from years of training and experience in far-off dusty and dangerous lands that he wasn’t even conscious of it.
New York in the summer. The insistent and never-fading sounds of traffic and the smell of fumes. He jaywalked the street to get to the sunlit side of Lafayette and closed his eyes momentarily to bask in the warmth.
‘It’s not a park!’ a passerby yelled at him and brushed past in a huff.
He grinned. He had been to the world’s top cities. Paris, London, Berlin, Rio, Jakarta, Tokyo—wherever he went, he felt at home. But New York? It was where he began and where he ended. He donned his shades and carried on. Waited at the intersection with Grand for the lights to turn and, when they did, proceeded to his destination, a bodega.
There were many within walking distance, some even closer, but this particular one was his favorite. It was neatly maintained, tidy, and had the light smell of incense in the air. He knew its owners. But the deal-clincher was the dessert counter. Fluffy pastries and cakes, chocolates that melted in one’s mouth, all of them freshly baked by the owner’s wife. They would set off calorie-counter alarms, if fitness gear had those.
He glanced at his watch and hurried. An oven-fresh batch would be coming, and he wanted to be first in line. Not many knew of the store’s delicacies. However, word of mouth was a thing, and the desserts often ran out as soon as they were displayed.
He removed his shades, folded them and placed them in an inner pocket as he squinted at the scaffolding outside the bodega. Construction on the building’s upper floors cut visibility.
A bell jangled when he entered.
‘Chang,’ he greeted the Chinese man behind the counter.
‘Cutter,’ the owner responded, his face creasing in a smile. He was in his fifties, his hair still thick and black, experience and hardship lining his face with tiny wrinkles. ‘Long time. You been going to some other store?’
‘Only if Lin Shun has run away with someone else. I come only for her pastries. You know that.’
‘I dunno what she sees in him,’ said an elderly man from the next aisle, where he was mopping the floor. ‘I’ve proposed to her several times.’
‘Have you considered that perhaps you’re old?’
Cutter stood silently, enjoying their humor. Moshe, the arrival, was joint-owner with Li Shun and Chang. An unlikely partnership on the face of it. The elderly man outranked the Chinese-American couple by close to three decades, though he was so fit only his wrinkled face and arms gave his age away.
That night brought us together.
Cutter had been on a late run several years ago, the streets deserted, when the sounds of a scuffle had caught his attention. A narrow alley behind the bodega, where buildings stored their trash bins. It opened into Center Street. Several shadows moving in the dark.
At the sound of his arrival, the figures had burst out and fled, but not before he had taken one man down and crippled him with a blow to the temple.
A mugging gone wrong. Chang and Lin Shun’s young son left bleeding on the ground. Moshe, then, a passerby who had tried to help, injured as well.
Cutter called 911 and stayed with them until the cops and first-responders arrived. He was with them when the paramedics shook their heads almost imperceptibly. Daniel Shun, the son, had died.
He had waited in the hospital’s hallway while Moshe was undergoing surgery that helped him survive the near-fatal knife wound to his kidneys.
Cutter joined the bodega owners in their mourning, and as time healed, got close to them. Moshe became part of them when he stayed in touch and became a business partner as well when he bought in to the store.
Cutter clapped the elder man on his shoulder and looked at him critically. ‘He’s still got all his teeth,’ he told Chang. ‘That ought to count for something, shouldn’t it?’
‘Teeth! That’s all he’s got.’
Moshe was in incredibly good shape for his age. He ran half-marathons and was an active participant in neighborhood walks. Any other person would be content with being a silent partner in the business. Not the elder man. He helped out wherever he could. Stacking shelves, cleaning up, even behind the checkout counter if needed, though he didn’t prefer it.
He feels claustrophobic there. He doesn’t like it.
Cutter stepped around the older partner when he resumed wiping the floor. Moshe’s sleeves slid up his forearms, and there it was: faded numerals tattooed on the inside of his left arm. Many thought it was old ink, badly done. Cutter knew what it was and the horrors behind it.
Moshe was an Auschwitz survivor.
He had been six when he was deported to the camp along with his parents and elder sister, ten when the camp was liberated. The only member of his family to survive.
Cutter went to the dessert counter and inhaled the aromas. A woman came from inside the store and wiped her hands on her white apron. She hugged him hard and checked him out. He could see his reflection in the glass covering the delicacies.
Six feet one. Styled, dark hair. Green eyes. Clean-shaven. Tee tucked into his jeans. Lightweight sports jacket. Rubber-soled sneakers.
Because of his deep tan, he could easily pass for someone from the Mediterranean region. Or the Middle East, South America, North Africa—a vast range of geographies. Only a handful knew what his genealogy was. Lin Shun, Chang and Moshe were among them.
‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’ Lin Shun went behind the display cabinet and waited expectantly.
‘Something like that.’ Rescuing a hostage from a Colombian cartel. That was some holiday!
Her eyes sharpened at his tone. They lingered on him. ‘No injuries?’
‘Nothing gets past you, Lin Shun,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘None, this time.’
She looked at him searchingly and then got down to business. ‘Pineapple and banana pastries. New recipe. They have come out well. You should try them out.’
‘I’ll take two of them, and my usual.’
Coconut-sprinkled fruit cupcakes were his go-to dessert. He licked his lips unconsciously as Lin Shun packed them in a brown paper bag.
He was taking it from her when it happened.