# Read the first page of Shadow Strike by Brad Taylor

Read the opening of Shadow Strike by Brad Taylor free, no signup. A counterterror operative races to stop an Iranian revenge plot.

- Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/shadow-strike-brad-taylor
- Genre: Thrillers
- Year: 2026
- ISBN: 9780063433229
- Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9780063433229&s=read-page
- Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9780063433229
- Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9780063433229

## The opening

Fate can hang on the most inauspicious decisions. Sometimes it’s a wrong turn like the one taken by Archduke Ferdinand’s driver in 1914. Sometimes it’s simply drinking one beer too many. Mosby Ellington wasn’t considering fate when he ordered another sixteen-ounce Pabst Blue Ribbon. He didn’t know it, but it would be fair to say that having a third beer in the broken-down saloon on a dusty side-street of Panguitch, Utah, quite possibly altered the geopolitical trajectory of the earth just as surely as Archduke Ferdinand’s driver.

That, and calling a phone number besides 911.

A retired pipefitter from Michigan, currently the only consequence he could see from the third beer was the tongue-lashing he was taking from his wife, now behind the wheel of their RV. She was in a fine mood, and while he wanted to fight back, he knew he would have to spend the night with her in the small enclosure, and he’d learned early during their cross-country trip that she could be an absolute hellion when she was angry—something he’d never had to worry about when he could retreat to his basement after a fight.

Moving slower than was necessary, purely to aggravate him, she said, “I told you I didn’t want to drive these roads at night. I said it over and over, and you still ordered the beer. And you made me wait until the game was over.”

Mosby gritted his teeth and said, “I’m good to drive. I finished the beer before extra innings even began. You knew I wanted to see the end, and there ain’t no television at the campground.”

“You’re not good. You can barely see at night as it is, forget about while drunk, and I’ll be damned if we die out here in the middle of nowhere.”

That set him off. “I’m not drunk Liz, and I can see fine. Fine enough to go faster than twenty miles an hour. At this rate we won’t get to sleep until dawn.”

Liz said, “You and your baseball. If I knew you’d be glued to every damn game I wouldn’t have agreed to be stuck in this RV, stopping at a bar along the route to watch whoever’s playing. We should have just stayed home and saved the money.”

She glared at him and said, “I thought this was supposed to be getting away from all of that. Me out of the ER, you out of the cold. Now, we won’t see any of the lake or the hills. We’ll just get up at the crack of dawn and start driving again.”

The words caused Mosby’s face to redden, precisely because he had sold the trip that way. Liz was a registered nurse who worked nights in an emergency room, and they’d both grown tired of the grind, with Mosby coming up with the RV trip as an escape.

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