Safecracker

by Jesse DeRoy Narrated by Dan John Miller

Overview

Notes From Your Bookseller

Can you crack the case? Dive into the criminal underbelly of Los Angeles through the eyes of a retired thief, an impossible case, and danger at every turn.

WHEN ELITE SAFECRACKER DUKE DUCAINE TAKES A JOB BREAKING INTO AN UNBREAKABLE SAFE, HE DISCOVERS SOME THINGS ARE BEST LEFT UNOPENED ...

Grantchester “Duke” Ducaine and his sister, Ginny, were raised to be thieves, by a master thief. Instead of spending their childhood with toys and bikes, it was lockpicks and Glocks. Now Duke is alone, adrift, and out of the life. His dad is serving time, and he doesn't like to think
about what happened to Ginny. He spends his days haunting the streets of Los Angeles, busting civilian safes for enough cash to keep him one step ahead of the bookies breathing down his neck.

When he's approached by two government agents with an impossible, history-making heist; a mysterious agenda; and an offer that's too good to be true, that old feeling begins to creep in. But does Duke still have what it takes to make it in the cold world he was raised in?

A taut, whip-smart debut, this deeply inhabited dive into the criminal nether-world unfurls with surprising heart.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940191930909
Publisher:	Recorded Books, LLC
Publication date:	11/12/2024
Series:	A Grantchester "Duke" Ducaine Thriller , #1
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

EXCERPT

ONE

The first time I killed a man, I was eleven years old.
            My sister and I had been raised by a thief to be thieves ourselves. It was as if our dad won Wimbledon, and when we were born, he decided that he would mold us into the greatest tennis players of all time. Except, instead of spending our childhood with rackets in our hands, it was lockpicks and Glocks.
            And it worked.
            By the time I was eleven, I could crack safes, bypass alarms, plan a heist, shoot equally well with both hands, and hold my own in a fight against a grown man. Ginny, who was fifteen months older, could do the same, but better. She liked to make the old joke about Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, except that she mostly wore cool sneakers, and our choreographed dance routines revolved around taking expensive things from other people.
            The job we were on was a total milk run from start to finish: no guards, an outdated security system, and a safe you could have opened by breathing on it. It was really a one-person job, but part of dad’s training regime was to bring us along when he could. He had every reason to expect it would be a clean heist. The fixer was an old friend who was in a bind, and even though dad hadn’t seen him in probably two decades, they’d been close once. Dad thought he could trust him.             He was wrong.

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