Jack Flynn doesn’t want trouble. No, sir. Avoids trouble like you would a nagging ex-wife. What he wants, black coffee and cigarettes aside, is a laid-back life in Margaritaville. But trouble, man, it just loves this guy. You’d think living life on an old shrimp boat anchored off a tropical island would give a man, a man with a past, a certain measure of peace. You’d think that. But you’d be wrong. Ex-special forces, former pro-boxer, Jack Flynn has left the horrors of war and a checkered past behind, determined to start a new life for himself as a salvage diver and sometimes private eye in a town where people still go to chase dreams. Where the impossible can still happen. Key West, Florida. Life is good. Time passes. And then one day trouble rolls into town. A simple job. Do a favor for this lawyer broad. Just find this rich guy’s daughter who vanished twenty years ago and was recently spotted in Key West. This Daddy Warbucks jackass is willing to pay some serious coin to find his little angel. And Jack, man, he could really use the dough. Sounds easy enough. Key West is an island. It’s like, what, two miles by three. How hard could it be? Easy, right? Yeah. Walk in the park. Unless of course you’re a trouble magnet like Jack and a whole freakshow of mobsters and psycho bikers roll into town looking for little girl lost. These goons, they’re not big fans of Jack’s. Gotta problem with smartasses, which, by his own admission, Jack is. Most of these guys, they’d like nothing more than to put a bullet in Jack’s head. Set him up in a nice, dirt condo. Problem is, Jack, he’s one tough sonuvabitch. A throwback. Old-school guy. Kinda guy whose favorite outfit is a sneer. And even though no one has ever accused Jack of being smart, he’s a cunning bastard who never gives up. Ever. These gangsters, man, they’ve got no idea what they’re up against.