For Duty and Honor
Now Available for Purchase
Released on November 22, 2016
|“Dan Morgan is one of the best heroes to come along in ages.” — Jeffery Deaver, New York Times Bestselling Author
“Leo Maloney has a real winner with Duty And Honor—Gritty and intense, it draws you immediately into the action and doesn’t let go.”— Marc Cameron, New York Times Bestselling author
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“Leo J. Maloney is a real-life Jason Bourne.”
For Duty and Honor … Excerpt
The prisoner’s body was a brick of exhaustion and pain.
Steel cuffs chafed against his raw wrists and ankles, the rough uniform scraping the burns and cuts that lined his arms and legs and pocked his torso. Even under the blackness of his hood, the prisoner smelled stale sweat mingled with his own breath: iron from the blood, acetone from the starvation. He could barely hold himself up against the jolting ride. All that was keeping him upright were the two thick guards at his sides boxing him in. At the outset, hours ago at the landing strip, the guards were in high spirits, joking and jesting in Russian, which the prisoner could not follow. Whenever he couldn’t hold himself up anymore and leaned into one of them or into the front seat, they would box the prisoner’s head and laugh, forcing him to sit upright again.
But as they drew nearer to their destination, and the car’s heating lost ground against the cold, the guards grew quiet, like there was something grim about the place even to them.
The prisoner swung forward as the jeep came to an abrupt stop, tires on gravel. The doors opened and the spaces on his sides cleared as the men got out, leaving him exposed to the frigid Siberian air. Against this cold, the canvas uniform felt like nothing at all.
The guards unlocked the cuffs and yanked the prisoner out. Too tired to offer any resistance, he walked along, bare feet on the freezing stony ground. Someone pulled off his cowl. He was struck by a hurricane of light that made him so dizzy that he would have vomited, if there were anything in his stomach. It took a moment for the image to stop swimming and resolve itself into the barren landscape of rock and creeping brush lit by a sun low in the sky.
The Siberian tundra.
They prodded him forward. He trudged toward the Brutalist conglomeration of buildings surrounded by tall mesh fences and barbed wire. Prison camp. Gulag. The prisoner’s trembling knee collapsed and he fell on the stony ground. A guard gave him a kick with a heavy, polished leather boot and pulled him to his feet.
They reached the top and entered the vakhta, the guardhouse. He passed through the first gate and was searched, rough hands prodding and poking at him. They then opened the second, leading him through, outside, into the yard. His gaze kept down, he saw guards’ boots, and massive furry Caucasian shepherds, each taller than a full-grown man’s waist. He didn’t look up to see the bare concrete guard towers that overlooked the terrain for miles around or at the sharpshooters that occupied them.
He was pulled inside the nearest boxy building, walls painted with chipping murals of old Soviet propaganda, apple-cheeked youngsters over fields of grain and brave soldiers of the Red Army standing against the octopus of international capitalism. On the second floor, they knocked on a wooden door.
The guards opened the door, revealing an office with a vintage aristocratic desk. They pushed him onto the bare hardwood.
A man stood up with a creak of his chair. The prisoner watched as he approached, seeing from his vantage point only the wingtip oxfords and the hem of his pinstriped gabardine pants, walking around his desk, footsteps echoing in the concrete office.
“Da,” a guard answered.
The man crouched, studying the prisoner’s face. “You are one of General Suvorov’s, are you not?” His voice was deep and filled with gravel and a heavy Russian accent.
The prisoner didn’t respond—not that he needed to.
“You are tough, if he did not break you.” He stood, brushing off unseen dust from his suit jacket. “And if he had broken you, you would be dead already. I am Nevsky, the warden. Welcome to my prison.”
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About Leo J. Maloney
Leo Maloney was born in Massachusetts, where he spent his childhood and graduated from high school and attended Northeastern University. In the mid 1960’s, while in the army, he was recruited to become a deep cover black ops contractor for a clandestine government agency.
While he was serving his country in the secretive world of Black Ops over 30 years, he operated several “cover” businesses including a classic car brokerage, promotions and limousine companies, and a detective agency. He served as a municipal police officer in Revere, Massachusetts and is still a licensed private investigator in the state of Massachusetts.
After leaving his career in black ops, Leo continued several of his cover businesses, and also had the opportunity to try his hand at acting in independent films and TV commercials. Leo has 5 movies to his credit both as an actor and behind the camera as a producer, technical advisor, and assistant director.
In his most recent project, Leo began writing, reliving many of his Black Ops experiences and evolving them into his books. In 2011 he signed a contract with Kensington Publishing Corp for the Dan Morgan thriller series. The first book, Termination Orders, was released in September 2012. The second book, Silent Assassin, was released in August of 2013. The third book, Black Skies, was released on 26 August 2014. The fourth book a novella, Twelve Hours, was released in March of 2015. The fifth book, Arch Enemy, was released in March of 2016. The sixth book, For Duty and Honor, will be released in November of 2016. It’s now official, Leo has signed a movie deal with Amber Entertainment in LA / London to bring the “Dan Morgan” thriller series to the “BIG SCREEN”. Termination Orders is slated to begin filming in 2017.
Leo currently resides in Venice, FL and Massachusetts with his wife and their German Shepherd, Neika.
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Praises … From Peers and Fans
“The new master of the modern spy game.”—Mark Sullivan
“Rings with authenticity.”—John Gilstrap
”Fine writing and real insider knowledge.”—Lee Child
“Leo Maloney proves he clearly knows his stuff.”—Hank Phillippi Ryan
“A ripping story!”—Meg Gardiner