He was glad to be away from D.C. and the excruciating tug of war between Annica and their editor for whatever ounce of “loyalty” Ethan had left. Yes, he was loyal to Annica, who had given him his start. And he was grateful for the editor for his help with that start—and his paycheck. The largest paycheck he’d ever seen . . . But his truest loyalty belonged to Kalani.

He had left without informing her, not having the time to arrange a coded message through the newspaper. Maybe he’d arrange for something on the road. The worst-case scenario would be having to continue connecting with her that way. To grasp at straws, to struggle for even the slightest and most abstract form of connectivity. The best scenario, and what he’d begun to expect would happen since being dispatched to West Virginia, would be to follow his increasingly sharpened investigative skills to find her. He’d been using those skills all morning, having followed a trail to his current rest stop just a few miles outside of Harrisonburg, Virginia. But he could admit that it was mostly luck that took him there. Along the interstate, the truck stop had its lot jammed with trailers from all different shipping companies. But it was the Khan brothers’ Pakistan Green livery and its crescent logo that had caught Ethan’s attention from the road. A lucky pick up, indeed. One of Kahn’s green shipping containers stacked on top of the truck’s flatbed trailer.

Jackson’s team, operating in D.C., had helped him generally locate the container. But it really was luck that he saw the green out of the corner of his eye from the highway. Luck, too, that no one seemed to be watching over it.

Ethan walked casually around the front of the truck, peering up to the windshield and squinting against the glare. The driver’s side offered a much easier view, a clear line of sight into the unoccupied cab. He lingered for a moment before spinning around to check back to the rest area, scanning for the return of the truck driver. A few were milling around the entrance. But milling only. No one seemed to be walking anywhere with purpose, and certainly not toward the truck with the Khan container.

He quickly made his way around the truck, to the back, where he was safely covered from view. There he walked up close to the tail end, feet away from the container itself: the potential source of so much trouble. The potential source of evidence that would blow the case wide open. He was shocked that he’d stumbled upon the moment so easily and quickly, and so early into his mission.

He leaned in to read the serial number on the plastic seal that wrapped around the shipping container’s door lock. If the numbers matched up to what Jackson had told him . . .

“Hey.”

Ethan froze. He didn’t want to turn around. Still frozen, he said, innocently, “Yeah?”

“The hell are you doing?” It was man’s voice. A gruff one. A voice sounding none too pleased about Ethan’s curiosity.

“I was just . . .” Ethan trailed off, having nothing to say. And then he tried: “Just making sure this door was properly—” The bullshit line halted as soon as Ethan had turned to view the man. To get a good look at him. At Sam, a DARC Ops team member.

A smiling one.

“You son of a bitch,” Ethan said, the lump having already disappeared from his throat. “You asshole!”

Sam laughed at him. “I just had to,” he said, taking on his own voice. He had a bad habit of perfecting various “voices,” the latest of which had just scared the hell out of Ethan. He apologized and said, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Well, why am I even here, if you’re already—”

“Shh,” Sam said.

“What?”

“We’ll have to quiet down and hurry up.”

Ethan stepped away from the truck. “Yeah, sure.”

“Do you even know what we’re doing?” Sam asked.

“Yeah . . .”

Sam was staring at him with those maddeningly analytic eyes of his. Sam, the expert behavior analyst. The human lie detector.

Ethan finally said, “I have no idea, actually. I was sent out here by the paper for a drug story in small town in West Virginia. And Jackson wanted me to find and track this truck and follow it in. And why the hell are you here again?”

“We’re teaming up,” Sam said, taking a quick look to the rest station. And then back to Ethan.

“We are?”

“Teaming up. Jackson’s orders.”

“My orders were to . . .” Ethan couldn’t shake the image of Kalani’s sweet, sun-kissed face. “I was told to go to West Virginia.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, you’re still going there.”