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THE MORNING AIR WAS hard to breathe, thick and verdant, as wet as the river flowing toward the Atlantic. He’d lived here longer than he’d lived in the States where he’d been born. He hadn’t chosen this life, but he’d made the best of it. That’s what survival was all about.
But he was tired. And those who’d disrupted his life, damaged and destroyed his family needed to pay.
It was time for Loren Bruce to go home.