"Get the jet ready," I said, already pulling up Reed's contact. "We're flying out first thing tomorrow."
Nathan nodded, wiping chip dust on his pants like this was just another Tuesday.
Reed picked up on the second call, voice rough with sleep and worry.
"Nick? What's going on?"
He didn't know everything—but he knew enough to hear the tension in my silence.
"We got a lead," I said, pacing the kitchen slowly. "One of the retired soldiers we were tracking—Lami—he's not in the States anymore. He's in Lagos. And he's on someone's hit list."
Reed inhaled sharply. "Fuck. How bad?"
"Bad enough," I said. "I'm heading out in the morning to extract him before they get to him."
"You're escorting him back alone?" Reed's voice tightened. "Nick, you should—"
"I'm not taking you with me," I cut in softly but firmly. "Not this time."
Silence. Heavy. Sharp.
Reed wasn't stupid; he heard what I wasn't saying.
"What aren't you telling me?" he asked quietly.
