Devils in Exile
Neal Maven returns to Boston from his tour in Iraq only to discover that the country he vowed to protect has little use for him now. The men and women who remained Stateside are years ahead of him both personally and professionally, which embitters him and pushes him toward his breaking point.
And then he meets Brad Royce. Royce is everything Maven wants to be: a fellow vet, charismatic and confident, principled, wealthy, and with a beautiful woman on his arm. Not just any beautiful woman, but Danielle Vetti—the most stunning girl from Maven’s high school. Literally, the girl of his dreams.
Royce offers Maven a much-needed job, and Maven soon finds himself a part of Royce’s team of “sugar bandits,” a group of fellow veterans who use their military skills to intercept major drug deals, taking the dirty money while destroying the product—a get-rich scheme with a clear moral imperative. Though exceedingly dangerous and certainly illegal, the efforts of these modern-day Robin Hoods provide Maven with the adrenaline charge he’s craved since his decommission. Besides, Maven can’t resist the chance to be in Danielle’s orbit once again.
Suddenly, Maven’s life is better than he ever thought possible: a soldier in a civilian’s world, he is once again able to do something he excels at and rediscovers the camaraderie he’s sorely lacked since his return. He can get into any club, eat at any restaurant, be with any woman he wants—except, of course, his dream girl. It’s almost too good to be true. In fact, it is too good to be true when Maven learns that nothing is as it seems, but he’s in too deep and can see no way out. . . .
Read an Excerpt
A COLD SATURDAY NIGHT IN NOVEMBER.
Neal Maven stood on the edge of the parking lot, looking up at the buildings of downtown Boston. He was wondering about the lights left shining in the windows of the top-floor offices—who does that, and why—when a thumping bass line made him turn.
A silver limousine eased around the corner. Its long side windows were mirrored so that the less fortunate could see themselves watching the American dream pass them by. Maven stuffed his hands deep inside the pouch pockets of his blanket-thick hoodie, stamping his boots on the blacktop to keep warm.
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