About the book
Inspired by true events, No Safe Ground follows Matt 'Johno' Johnson. Once among the best - an elite British Special Forces operator, now a close-protection contractor. He is haunted by an ambush in Afghanistan that killed three of his men. Isolated and battling PTSD and guilt, he feels a sense of unfinished duty.
After a deadly encounter with the Zeta cartel in Central America, Johno flees and takes a job in Northern Iraq, searching for redemption. The task: protect, extract, move on, should be simple. But in Iraq, nothing is ever straightforward.
In a world where every ally could be an enemy and every mission a trap, Johno is forced to confront his greatest battle yet, his own conscience. With enemies on every side, is he the protector, the pawn or the hunted? He must decide what kind of man he wants to be: a survivor, a soldier, or an avenger.
A visceral, gripping cinematic thriller of modern warfare and moral reckoning. Set amid the rise of ISIS, the book exposes the covert war waged in the grey zones between nations, faith, and conscience.
This is one man's desperate fight to reclaim his life in a world where redemption may prove deadlier than any enemy. In a terrain of secrets and scars, Johno faces one truth: there is no safe ground.
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He walks the centre of the lane. Not rushing. Not dawdling. No theatre. Each step lands exactly where he means it to. That's the first thing. Men who've been under fire walk like that. The rest don't.
He stops in front of the bonnet. Runs his eyes over the vehicle — armour, tyres, the gunner up through the roof hatch. Then raises his gaze, and our eyes meet through the windscreen. The glass might as well not be there.
Lines at the corners of his eyes, etched in by squinting into too much sun and too much smoke. A shallow pale scar high on one cheekbone, the kind of mark left by something that moved fast. His hands hang loose at his sides, fingers slightly curled, already knowing where they go if something shifts.
We hold the look for a few seconds. Long enough for my pulse to spike once and settle. Long enough for both of us to know we're measuring and both of us to know we're being measured.
