Devils in Exile
A Novel
Neal Maven comes home from his tour in Iraq to nothing—no job, no friends, no future. Then he meets Brad Royce, a fellow vet, charismatic and confident, with the lifestyle and the one woman Neal has always wanted: Danielle Vetti, Maven’s high-school dream girl. Royce offers Maven a spot on his team of vets who intercept major drug deals, take the dirty money, and destroy the product—an adrenaline-charged, get-rich scheme with a clear moral imperative. But is it too good to be true? With two psychotic hit men out for retaliation, a relentless DEA agent closing in, and more questions than answers about Royce, Maven suddenly finds he’s in too deep—and the truth may be his worst enemy.
Delivering “heart-stopping intensity” (San Francisco Chronicle) in all of his novels of suspense, Chuck Hogan nails a terrifying criminal underworld of lethal violence and complex friendships, loves, and rivalries in Devils in Exile.
Delivering “heart-stopping intensity” (San Francisco Chronicle) in all of his novels of suspense, Chuck Hogan nails a terrifying criminal underworld of lethal violence and complex friendships, loves, and rivalries in Devils in Exile.
Choose a format:
Buy from us:
- Pocket Star |
- 400 pages |
- ISBN 9781451633399 |
- April 2011
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Read an Excerpt
THE LOT
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.
Nine... see more
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.
Nine... see more
Hear an Excerpt
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