War is hell, but coming home is worse. Jason Smiley, a cop in Chicago before he joined the Army after 9/11 came back from the wars knowing all the real heroes were dead. Now he's a private detective following trophy wives around LA. A call from his Iraq battle buddy, an undercover FBI agent is the first thing he remembers when he wakes up next to a dead man. The last thing he remembers is the surprised look on the dead man's face as he died, the smell of death, and camel shit. Hell of a way to wake up on the day you're supposed to save the world. But first he has to find his clothes. During an arms deal he brokered for the Mob between Middle Eastern terrorists and the Triads, Jack Nesmith, Smiley's battle-buddy from the war, stole circuits designed to trigger nuclear warheads as IEDs from the Chinese Triads in Los Angeles. Now everyone wants the triggers back. Smiley is coerced by the mob, the FBI and a mysterious red head to find Jack, but when he does the problem goes from threatening to disastrous in a muzzle flash. Smiley's run to find his battle-buddy and the missing triggers takes him from southern California to the sun drenched Jamaican shores, back to storm tossed Chicago, and into the way of powerful ruthless men, with no one he can trust. Not even himself.