Constantine has spent 17 years drifting when he hitches a lift one morning and finds himself recruited for a heist. A fast-paced, gritty novel showing the raw side of American life. Has all the action, blood and gore I expected, but with a twist.
Two weeks later he had taken a job in Annapolis, and then he had run from that, and now he was sitting next to a puckish old man in a hopped-up Mopar, cruising the interstates of Maryland. He drummed his fingers on the dash, thinking that after seventeen years the sum of his accomplishments had been one big broken circle with a gaping dead end. But Constantine had been wrong about a lot of things, and he would be wrong about this too. Everthing always added up to something, and the real trip was about to begin.