PROLOGUE
Eight years ago…
Reid Nolan wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The humid Virginia air clung to him like a second skin after the brutal training session. His SEAL team had just wrapped up a twelve-mile ruck march, and his muscles burned in that satisfying way that reminded him he was still alive, still pushing.
Back in the barracks, he reached into his locker to grab a towel. A sharp buzzing sound startled him enough to jerk his hand back. “Dumb fuck,” he muttered to himself. It was just his phone vibrating against the metal of the locker. Jaxon’s name flashed on the screen. Reid grinned, thumbing the accept button.
“About time you called, you FBI pretty boy,” Reid said, his voice laced with the easy ribbing they’d shared since high school. “What’s it been, six months? You forget how to use a phone, or are you too busy chasing skirts in D.C.?”
Silence stretched on the other end. Reid’s grin faded. Jaxon’s breath was ragged, like he’d been running.
“Reid,” Jaxon said.
With that one word, Reid straightened up, every muscle tensing and every nerve sharpening into focus. Something was very wrong.
“I’m in trouble.” Jaxon continued.
Reid leaned against the locker, noting the difference in Jaxon’s tone of voice. Defeat was something he couldn’t recall ever hearing from Jaxon. “Talk.”
Jaxon let out a breath. “I got arrested. Possession with intent to distribute Fentanyl. A lot of it.”
Reid grimaced. “What the hell? You’re FBI. That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t. I was undercover on a sting operation, posing as a dealer to deliver to a drop point where my team was supposed to swoop in and take down the ring. Big shipment—enough to kill half a state. But local cops pulled me over on a back road near Howler. You remember that scumbag AG they call the General? I’m pretty sure he’s involved. Evidently, he’s up for re-election and needs a big arrest to campaign on. Cops used the pretense of a busted taillight to stop me, then busted it when they approached my driver’s side window. When I reached for my badge to straighten things out, they drew down on me, claiming I was going for a gun. After ordering me out of the car at gunpoint, they searched the car, found the drugs, and cuffed me.”
Reid paced the narrow aisle between lockers. “Your handler should’ve cleared it up. FBI ops override local bullshit.”
“That’s the thing. When the feds showed up, they acted like they knew nothing about the delivery. And the drugs… Reid, they were from a bust I made months ago. I confiscated them myself and turned them over to the evidence lockup. Now they’re saying I stole them. All I did was pick them up from the contact I was instructed to use for the sting.
Reid stopped pacing. “But they’ll get this cleared up, right? You’re innocent.”
“Damn right I am. My problem is that it doesn’t look that way. Hell, the evidence is stacking against me—chain of custody logs doctored, witnesses I’ve never seen testifying about deals I never made. Some woman swore the car I was in was one I stole from her. I just… I needed to talk to someone. Didn’t have anyone else to call.”
“You’re on trial? Why the hell didn’t you call me before now?” Jaxon didn’t answer. Reid didn’t need him to. Jaxon had always been the straight arrow, the one who joined the Bureau because he believed in the system. But he was always the guy who had to take care of things himself. Reid knew how desperate the situation must be for Jaxon to call.
“What about your lawyer? You got representation, right?”
“Some hotshot from California. Dorne or Thorne… Phillip Thorne, I think. Supposed to be the best. But the guy’s a ghost. Won’t return calls, dodges meetings. I’m starting to get a bad feeling, Reid. The judge denied my request for a new lawyer. I think I’m going down for this.”
Reid spoke with grim determination. “Hang in there. I’ll figure something out.”
Before they hung up, Jaxon gave him the details about where the trial was taking place and which jail he was being held in.
Reid stood there, the locker room noise fading to a hum. Jaxon’s voice echoed in his head, haunted, broken. The guy who’d been like a little brother, the one Sarge had pulled into their circle back in Darling, was in trouble and needed his help. Reid would not let this stand.
He made the call to his CO that night. Paperwork to separate from the Navy started the next day. Honorable discharge. He’d served his time, earned his trident, and although he was seriously considering staying in, it wasn’t the only plan he’d been contemplating. Jaxon’s situation was going to take longer than an extended leave. Sarge always taught him that family came first. And Jaxon was family.
Next, he dialed Gage Buchanan. Gage was on a SEAL sniper team, deployed stateside for training. Reid was hoping that his old grade school classmate hadn’t been deployed again. With the SEALs, you never knew.
“Reid,” Gage answered on the first ring, voice steady as always.
Reid wasted no time on pleasantries. “We need to talk. Jaxon’s in deep shit.” Reid laid it out. The arrest, the setup, the bad lawyer. “He’sbeing railroaded. I’m headed to Darling as soon as I get my paperwork started.”
“I’ll take leave too, and be there as soon as I can.”
“I’m not taking leave,” Reid said. “I’m getting out. Leave won’t be enough to set this straight. You do what you think is right. No one will hold it against you. Even if you can only stay for a few days, it’ll help.”
“A few days, my ass,” Gage growled. “What do you think Sarge would say about a few days?”