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No Escape: John Hayes #4 (PAPERBACK)

No Escape: John Hayes #4 (PAPERBACK)

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  • Paperback

After a chance encounter in the lobby of a Dubai hotel, someone from the dark corners of John’s past comes back to haunt him, threatening to sabotage an idyllic holiday and to annihilate everything John Hayes holds dear.

No Escape, another fast-moving page-turning thriller in the John Hayes Thriller Series, takes you from the glitzy hotels of Dubai to the vast desert sands of Oman, where once again John has to dig deep and call upon all his wits to fight evil and save the woman he loves.


Paperback Details

Pages: 252

Size: 5" x 8" (147mm x 243mm)

Format: Paperback

Series: Book 4, The John Hayes Thrillers

Paperback Delivery

Shipping times, after printing, are within 1-3 business days.

My books are printed on-demand by my printers located in the UK and the USA.

Once you place your order, my printers will get to work printing your book.

Each book is carefully printed, checked and shipped and delivered to your door 1-3 business days after printing (excluding bank holidays).

Read the Shipping Policy and Returns Policy.

Read a Sample

Steve Jones checked the room number against the message on his phone, then knocked twice.

He heard a muffled “Come in” through the door and pushed down on the latch, stepping inside. A short hallway opened into a large suite with expansive views across the Arabian Gulf from the full-height windows. An older Indian man, sitting in an overstuffed leather armchair, watched him approach, and Steve smiled.

“Mr. Patil?”

“Yes,” replied the man as he gestured toward another chair.

Steve nodded and walked over, taking a quick glance around the room. A polished wooden writing desk stood against one wall, and on the opposite side of the room, a set of double sliding doors opened into the bedroom. The leather armchair and sofa set arranged around a coffee table took up the center of the room. On the coffee table sat a silver tray laden with cups and a large coffee pot. Steve did a quick calculation in his head. A suite like this would cost upwards of three thousand dirhams a night—he made a mental note to revise his charges upwards.

“Please help yourself to coffee.”

“Thank you.” Steve sat down and placed his messenger bag on the floor beside the chair before pouring himself a cup. Sitting back, he smiled at the man in front of him. He was older than he sounded on the phone, perhaps in his mid-fifties, his head bald on top, and the hair at the sides grey and slicked back. The gold chain around his neck and the white linen shirt stretched over a ‘prosperous’ belly only reinforced the aura of wealth hinted at by the hotel suite. He frowned impatiently, his fingers tapping on the arm of the chair as Steve sipped on his coffee.


“Oh, yes.” Steve placed the coffee cup back on the table and reached for his messenger bag, removing a notepad, flipping it open.

“He is staying in this hotel, room 1502, has been here for four days.”

“His name?” Surya Patil interrupted.

Steve checked his notes. “Ah... John Hayes. Traveling on an English passport.” Steve looked up and noticed his client’s frown was even deeper, a vein visibly pulsing in his temple, his hands now clenched into fists. Steve looked down at his notes again, wondering what his client’s connection was with the hotel guest. He had been working as a private investigator in Dubai for almost three years now, the bulk of his work monitoring the infidelities of men and women on business trips. But this case didn’t seem like that.

The beautiful woman accompanying Mr. Hayes wasn’t Indian, so she was obviously not a relative of his client. She didn’t look like a woman who would be in a relationship with an unattractive middle-aged and overweight man either. Although he had to admit, he had seen plenty of strange relationships during his three years in the city. It was amazing what the lure of money made people do.

“And the woman?”

“A Portuguese national. Adriana D’Silva,” Steve read from his notes, then looked up. “That’s all I’ve been able to find out, so far.”

Surya Patil nodded slowly, his eyes drilling holes in Steve, forcing him to look away. He placed the notepad on his lap and picked up the coffee cup, taking another sip.

“I want you to follow them. Find out where they go, what they do, who they meet. I expect a report.”

“Of course,” Steve smiled. He glanced around the suite again. “Ah... there will be expenses, and of course, you know my daily rate.”

Surya Patil’s lip curled in distaste as he leaned forward and picked up an envelope from the coffee table.

“Consider this an advance.” He tossed it over the table into Steve’s lap.

Steve placed the cup down and picked up the envelope, flicking it open with his thumb, and glanced at the thick wad of dirhams inside. Looking up, he smiled.


Surya Patil dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Steve retrieved his bag and stood up. He nodded goodbye but needn’t have bothered. Surya Patil was staring out the window, ignoring him.

Steve turned and walked toward the door, the cash-stuffed envelope safely stowed in his bag. It had come at an opportune time. The last two months had been lean, and he was behind on the alimony payments to his wife back in Australia. He didn’t understand what this Surya Patil wanted with the Englishman and his partner, but as long as he kept paying, he would do whatever he asked.

He reached for the door handle, opening the door when Surya Patil’s gruff voice called out from behind him.

“A daily report. Don’t forget!”

Steve smiled to himself. “Of course, Sir. I’ll call you first thing tomorrow morning.”

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