Thrillers & Suspense
![Kyle Mills - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B000APXUH0.jpg)
![Vince Flynn - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B0C5VTJWDG.jpg)
Oath of Loyalty (21) (A Mitch Rapp Novel)
Mitch Rapp-"the best hero the thriller genre has to offer" (The Real Book Spy)-confronts a very different kind of killer in this explosive addition to Vince Flynn's #1 New York Times bestselling series, written by Kyle Mills.
With President Anthony Cook convinced that Mitch Rapp poses a mortal threat to him, CIA Director Irene Kennedy is forced to construct a truce between the two men. The terms are simple: Rapp agrees to leave the country and stay in plain sight for as long as Cook controls the White House. In exchange, the administration agrees not to make any moves against him.
This fragile détente holds until Cook's power-hungry security adviser convinces him that Rapp has no intention of honoring their agreement. To put him on the defensive, they leak the identity of his partner, Claudia Gould. As Rapp races to neutralize the enemies organizing against her, he discovers that a new type of assassin is on her trail.
Known only as Legion, the shadowy killer has created a business model based on double-blind secrecy. Neither the assassin nor the client knows the other's identity. Because of this, Legion can't be called off nor can they afford to fail. No matter how long it takes-weeks, months, years-they won't stand down until their target is dead. Faced with the seemingly impossible task of finding and stopping Legion, Rapp and his people must close ranks against a world that has turned on them.
With President Anthony Cook convinced that Mitch Rapp poses a mortal threat to him, CIA Director Irene Kennedy is forced to construct a truce between the two men. The terms are simple: Rapp agrees to leave the country and stay in plain sight for as long as Cook controls the White House. In exchange, the administration agrees not to make any moves against him.
This fragile détente holds until Cook's power-hungry security adviser convinces him that Rapp has no intention of honoring their agreement. To put him on the defensive, they leak the identity of his partner, Claudia Gould. As Rapp races to neutralize the enemies organizing against her, he discovers that a new type of assassin is on her trail.
Known only as Legion, the shadowy killer has created a business model based on double-blind secrecy. Neither the assassin nor the client knows the other's identity. Because of this, Legion can't be called off nor can they afford to fail. No matter how long it takes-weeks, months, years-they won't stand down until their target is dead. Faced with the seemingly impossible task of finding and stopping Legion, Rapp and his people must close ranks against a world that has turned on them.
Readers Top Reviews
Floyd E. Gilreath
Typically suspense story by Vince Flynn, has all the attention to detail of clandestine operations. Will keep your attention until last page.
GORDON SCHUBERTFl
One of the best books I've read along with the previous Mitch Rapp novels. I've been a fan for a long time and Vince Flynn didn't disappoint, again, as usual.
stephen b hodgesG
It’s difficult to keep fresh and clever plot lines with a franchise like Mitch Rapp. This manages both! Often “co-authored” franchises in this genre really lose their way - not here!
Stevekstephen b h
The book was an adrenaline rush from the start and continued throughout. It presented a very believable scenario, one especially possible in this present time. I highly recommend the read.
Kathy KingeryStev
I watched the movie American Assassin and was totally intrigued. I ordered the first book and haven't stopped since. I just finished book 21. I have never read this many books in a series and I never want them to stop. I love the mystery and the thrill these books contain.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1
WEST OF MANASSAS
VIRGINIA
USA
THE rain just kept coming. In sheets earlier. Then in waves. Now it seemed to go in circles, overwhelming the windshield wipers on Rapp's rental car and swirling in his headlights. Behind, Irene Kennedy was piloting her own SUV, tracking him at a distance of only a few feet. The vague glow of his house started to be discernable through his fogged windshield, but it didn't bring much comfort.
He'd just told Maggie Nash that her husband was dead. The carefully crafted bullshit about his heroics hadn't done much to obscure the fact that she was now a widow with four fatherless kids. Nor had it softened the look in her eyes. The one that said "What the hell was my executive husband with a bad back doing in Uganda? Why is he-like so many others-dead while you just keep on breathing?"
A fair question that he didn't have an answer for.
The modern, vaguely museum-like concept of the house looming ahead had originally been dreamed up by his late wife. Architecturally cutting-edge from the outside while allowing for no-compromises security to be integrated from the foundation up. When first completed, it had felt a little like a bunker. Not that he'd had a problem with that. There was nothing like being surrounded by thousands of tons of concrete to make him sleep at night. With the addition of Claudia, though, it had actually started to feel like a home. The smell of cement and fresh paint had been replaced with that of baking bread, flowers, and coconut shampoo. The hum of the state-of-the-art HVAC had been replaced with Anna's breathless storytelling and the banging of pans.
Now, as he closed in, it transformed back into a bunker. Eight million dollars' worth of dead and empty.
The massive gate opened when he hit a button on his key fob and he kept it depressed to allow Kennedy to tailgate him inside. Additional security lights came on as they pulled up to the front door and jumped out into the rain. A custom-made key got him inside, where he disabled the security system and started a diagnostic. He'd already completed one over his mobile phone but didn't trust it. Anything connected to the Internet could be hacked. The physical system, though, was built into the walls and subverting it would take more than some clever hackers-it'd take jackhammers.
It showed all-clear just as Kennedy entered the vestibule. She held her umbrella outside to shake it before closing the door again. It blocked out most of the sound of the storm, leaving him with the drone of the HVAC again.
"Claudia gave me a list of things she wants me to bring back to Africa," Rapp said. "Why don't you grab a bottle of wine and then meet me upstairs?"
Kennedy nodded silently and started toward the cellar.
"Might as well get a good one," he called as he jogged up the stairs. "I doubt I have much time and I'm not sure I'll ever be back."
In fact, he shouldn't have been there at all. But leaving Kennedy to talk to Maggie alone seemed like the coward's way out. He bore a lot of responsibility for her husband's death and the least he could do was look her in the eye when she got the news.
Rapp entered the master bedroom and used his phone to turn on a white-noise generator that played over hidden Bluetooth speakers. It would obscure any conversation from hidden microphones that were almost certainly not there. Better safe than sorry.
He pulled up the list Claudia had given him and waded into the walk-in closet that he rarely set foot in. The tangle of dresses, shoes, scarfs, and God-knew-what-else at first looked random but upon further examination hinted at some overarching master plan.
He'd still managed to locate precisely none of the things on the list when Kennedy appeared with an open bottle of Bordeaux.
"What's the difference between a heel and a wedge?" Rapp asked.
She poured a couple of glasses and then motioned him out of the closet, taking his phone as he passed. A quick glance at the list on-screen was all she needed to start retrieving things.
"What happened, Mitch?"
"Mike was your mole."
She nodded silently. "Can I assume he was working at the direction of the White House?"
"Yeah."
President Anthony Cook was very different from his predecessors. He was autocratic, ruthless, and had no love for the country he ran or the people who inhabited it. In fact, the opposite seemed to be true. He saw every flaw, every weakness, and had an incredible gift for exploiting them. In his mind, the further he could pit the American people against each other, the more he could control them. His only goals appeared to be basking in the adulation of his followers and ...
WEST OF MANASSAS
VIRGINIA
USA
THE rain just kept coming. In sheets earlier. Then in waves. Now it seemed to go in circles, overwhelming the windshield wipers on Rapp's rental car and swirling in his headlights. Behind, Irene Kennedy was piloting her own SUV, tracking him at a distance of only a few feet. The vague glow of his house started to be discernable through his fogged windshield, but it didn't bring much comfort.
He'd just told Maggie Nash that her husband was dead. The carefully crafted bullshit about his heroics hadn't done much to obscure the fact that she was now a widow with four fatherless kids. Nor had it softened the look in her eyes. The one that said "What the hell was my executive husband with a bad back doing in Uganda? Why is he-like so many others-dead while you just keep on breathing?"
A fair question that he didn't have an answer for.
The modern, vaguely museum-like concept of the house looming ahead had originally been dreamed up by his late wife. Architecturally cutting-edge from the outside while allowing for no-compromises security to be integrated from the foundation up. When first completed, it had felt a little like a bunker. Not that he'd had a problem with that. There was nothing like being surrounded by thousands of tons of concrete to make him sleep at night. With the addition of Claudia, though, it had actually started to feel like a home. The smell of cement and fresh paint had been replaced with that of baking bread, flowers, and coconut shampoo. The hum of the state-of-the-art HVAC had been replaced with Anna's breathless storytelling and the banging of pans.
Now, as he closed in, it transformed back into a bunker. Eight million dollars' worth of dead and empty.
The massive gate opened when he hit a button on his key fob and he kept it depressed to allow Kennedy to tailgate him inside. Additional security lights came on as they pulled up to the front door and jumped out into the rain. A custom-made key got him inside, where he disabled the security system and started a diagnostic. He'd already completed one over his mobile phone but didn't trust it. Anything connected to the Internet could be hacked. The physical system, though, was built into the walls and subverting it would take more than some clever hackers-it'd take jackhammers.
It showed all-clear just as Kennedy entered the vestibule. She held her umbrella outside to shake it before closing the door again. It blocked out most of the sound of the storm, leaving him with the drone of the HVAC again.
"Claudia gave me a list of things she wants me to bring back to Africa," Rapp said. "Why don't you grab a bottle of wine and then meet me upstairs?"
Kennedy nodded silently and started toward the cellar.
"Might as well get a good one," he called as he jogged up the stairs. "I doubt I have much time and I'm not sure I'll ever be back."
In fact, he shouldn't have been there at all. But leaving Kennedy to talk to Maggie alone seemed like the coward's way out. He bore a lot of responsibility for her husband's death and the least he could do was look her in the eye when she got the news.
Rapp entered the master bedroom and used his phone to turn on a white-noise generator that played over hidden Bluetooth speakers. It would obscure any conversation from hidden microphones that were almost certainly not there. Better safe than sorry.
He pulled up the list Claudia had given him and waded into the walk-in closet that he rarely set foot in. The tangle of dresses, shoes, scarfs, and God-knew-what-else at first looked random but upon further examination hinted at some overarching master plan.
He'd still managed to locate precisely none of the things on the list when Kennedy appeared with an open bottle of Bordeaux.
"What's the difference between a heel and a wedge?" Rapp asked.
She poured a couple of glasses and then motioned him out of the closet, taking his phone as he passed. A quick glance at the list on-screen was all she needed to start retrieving things.
"What happened, Mitch?"
"Mike was your mole."
She nodded silently. "Can I assume he was working at the direction of the White House?"
"Yeah."
President Anthony Cook was very different from his predecessors. He was autocratic, ruthless, and had no love for the country he ran or the people who inhabited it. In fact, the opposite seemed to be true. He saw every flaw, every weakness, and had an incredible gift for exploiting them. In his mind, the further he could pit the American people against each other, the more he could control them. His only goals appeared to be basking in the adulation of his followers and ...
