If Mad Max and Die Hard had a baby, it would be called Desert Kill . In the desert, there are no rules, except one: Never transport psychotic criminals. When the U.S. Marshals asked me to escort public enemy number one through the Arizona desert, saying no wasn't an option. If I'd known car chases, explosions, and a band of outlaws were on the agenda, I'd have called in my old Army Ranger buddies for backup. But I'm no ordinary prison guard. And this bastard chose the wrong FBI agent to threaten. If it's the wild west he wants, it's the wild west he'll get. But out here, I'm the law--judge, jury, and executioner.
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