While she walked away a hero, Sam was sent underground, left for the wolves. But it gave him a pathway to Harry Chapman, the man who pulled the strings behind most of the London Underworld, and after putting him down, Sam escaped from prison with the help of Singh and Etheridge. With his mission seemingly over, a fallen comrade, a man Sam had long thought dead, took his ex-wife hostage and threatened the destruction of a hospital in exchange for Sam’s life. Sam confronted Mac, hoping he could restore a friendship that had been obliterated by a missile over a decade before.

It was to no avail.

Sam, once again with the help of Etheridge, evaded the police and finally found his freedom.

But there had been a cost.

Multiple people had been killed, either by his hand or by the violence that swirled around his life like a horrific tornado.

Theo Walker.

Sergeant Marsden.

Mac.

All dead.

Etheridge, through his acts of friendship, was now a wanted man and had disappeared wherever his fortune would take him.

DI Amara Singh had been recruited for a government agency, her career taking her even further from his arms than the one she had previously.

DI Adrian Pearce, who had investigated Sam during his original quest for justice, had retired from the force under a cloud of collusion. Despite his thirty years of service being embellished with his suspected deceit, Pearce had found happiness in helping under privileged kids, carrying on the great work Theo had done before his murder.

For the first time since Jamie had died, Sam felt like his fight was over. There had been a toll-taking cost, but it was over.

There was just one final thing to do.

One more thing to make right.

A promise he’d made to Alex Stone after she’d saved his life. It was the promise that had brought him to America, and now that promise saw him strapped to the chair, at the mercy of a dangerous drug lord and his bloodthirsty henchman.

Sam had vowed to help Alex Stone get her family back.

And as Vasquez awaited the answer to his question, Sam knew the likelihood of fulfilling that promise was looking bleak. Vasquez sighed dramatically, sitting back in his chair, and lifting the passport from the desk. It was Sam’s, a perfect counterfeit that Etheridge had provided during his venture to Ukraine.

‘Jonathan Cooper?’ Vasquez said. ‘You have a strong jaw. My cousin, he was a boxer when he was younger. He used to tell me that you could tell a lot about a man by the way he took a punch. Now you. You can take a punch. That tells me ’you’re a strong man. But are you a smart man?’