Reid managed a smile at the thought.
“Don’t worry about my leave. I’ll start my paperwork and see you there,” Gage said and hung up.
Next was Jedidiah Hutchinson—Hutch, another fellow SEAL, built like a tank. He was always the one pulling pranks to boost morale. Fortunately, Hutch also picked up the phone.
After hearing the story, Hutch went quiet, then cursed low. “That kid doesn’t deserve this. I’m in. I was ready to get out anyway.”
It was a lie, but Reid knew Hutch felt the same way he did about Jaxon.
Connor Davis had transitioned to NCIS after his Navy MP days, investigating crimes on bases and ships. He was next on the list.
“Connor, it’s Reid.”
“Long time. What’s wrong?”
Connor’s response was immediate fury. “I worked that case with Jaxon last year. The human trafficking angle was tied to that drug ring. Lawson Young showed up. We both warned Jaxon to be careful. There were a lot of dangerous players with connections to powerful people involved. We had already been waved off the case by higher-ups. If this is linked, he’s screwed. I’ll be there soon.”
Reid spoke with Lawson Young and Deke Winters. Now they were headed home, too. Law was a covert ops diver for the SEALs, ass deep in top secret operations. Deke had a Green Beret background. Their experiences would come in handy for the plan Reid was beginning to form.
Last was Sawyer Dorsey, a CIA black ops agent. This time, his luckran out. Sawyer was on an op, so Reid left a voicemail. “Sawyer, it’s Reid. Jaxon Ruick’s in trouble, framed on drug charges. I’m getting out, heading home. So is everyone else. Need you there, man. Need your skills. Call me back.”
Reid lay back in his bunk, staring at the ceiling. These men weren’t just friends. They were brothers, forged in the fire of the abusive and dysfunctional homes they’d been born into. Reid had been fortunate to have Sarge, a retired Marine drill sergeant, and his stepdad. Sarge had seen the lost kids back when they were in high school. He’d seen the way they were headed and took them in one by one
Sarge had turned their backyard into a training ground. Drills at dawn, push-ups until they dropped, lessons on marksmanship and hand-to-hand. But it wasn’t just about strength.
Sarge taught them to be men. Alphas who protected the vulnerable, who stood tall when others folded. They also learned about being Daddies. The kind who cherished their Littles, provided structure, and loved without limits. “A real man knows to be gentle,” Sarge used to say, “but he’ll burn the world down to keep his own safe.”
Sarge had saved them. Now it was their turn to save one of their own.
The discharge came through faster than expected. Connections in the ranks helped. He drove straight to Darling, cursing the time it had taken to process out of the military and every mile between him and the Tennessee hills rising around him like old sentinels.
Several times, he’d tried to call and get back to Jaxon, but it went to voicemail every time. By the time he arrived in Darling, it was too late.
The trial had wrapped up. Jaxon had been convicted, found guilty on all counts. Fifty years in Ridge County Correctional Facility awaited him. Maximum security.
Reid visited him the next day. Jaxon’s hollow look made him appear older than his years, weighed down by a future bereft of hope.
“Didn’t fight it,” Jaxon said quietly. “I couldn’t.”
It took all Reid had in him not to demand a full explanation. He needed to know why Jaxon would apparently capitulate to the thugswho framed him. Instead, he pressed his hand to the partition. “We’ll get you out, brother. We won’t stop until you’re home.”
Jaxon just nodded, eyes distant. The others visited Jaxon over the next few weeks. Gage first, fresh from his sniper post, eyes sharp and ready. Hutch rolled in on his Harley, duffel slung over his shoulder. Connor arrived with files under his arm, already digging into NCIS contacts.
Law slipped into town quiet, like he always did. Deke drove up in his truck, face set. Sawyer appeared one night at Reid’s door, shadows under his eyes from whatever op he’d just left.
They gathered in the cramped apartment Reid had rented, and listened as he laid out his plan to get Jaxon released. “We’re not letting him rot.”
He’d repeated that phrase to all of them until it had almost become a motto. Now it was time to explain how they‘d do it and how they’d be able to afford it.
Gage was first off the mark. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m starting a private security firm. I’ve already started getting the permits we’ll need. It will be a legit business, but we’ll also use it to investigate what happened to Jaxon. We’ll gather the evidence we need to expose the frame and get him back home.”
Considering their individual backgrounds, it made complete sense, and everyone knew it. Over the next few hours, they ironed out the initial steps.
Reid found a warehouse on the edge of town—two stories, solid brick. He bought it outright with a combination of his savings and a loan from some of Sarge’s old buddies who had kept in touch.
The first floor became the Deep Dive Bar. It was a place for locals, and a front for meetings. A typical Tennessee dive bar, complete with dim lights, worn booths, and a long oak bar where they would blendinto the background. It would be the perfect cover for their activities and provide some additional revenue as well.