Jack Reacher woke up in total darkness, which was a nice change from his usual view of flickering neon motel signs, but the handcuffs were a bit much for a first date. He had absolutely no idea where he was or how he'd arrived, though he was fairly certain he hadn't checked himself into this particular "Bed & Bruises" establishment voluntarily. His right arm felt like it had been through an industrial meat grinder, his pockets were emptier than a gym on New Year's Day, and his memory was a complete blank.
The last thing he remembered was hitching a ride that ended in a spectacular off-road excursion and a very dead driver. Now, his captors — who clearly haven't read his Yelp reviews — have mistaken him for the driver's accomplice. They've patched him up just enough to start an interrogation, evidently unaware that Reacher's version of "talking" usually involves a series of rhythmic thuds and the sound of breaking furniture.
He didn't know who they were yet, but he knew one thing for sure: they were about to have a very, very bad Tuesday. Reacher wasn't locked in with them; they were locked in with a six-foot-five problem who doesn't even own a toothbrush to lose. Whoever did this was going to rue the day they met him, assuming they survived long enough to learn how to spell "rue."