“We have a lot to talk about,” Jackson said, “and we don’t have a lot to talk about.”

Logan took a seat in front of Jackson’s desk in the smaller, shorter chair. “What do you mean?” He had just arrived at Jackson’s operations RV after a forty-five-minute-long helicopter ride. He traveled alone in the back of it, touching down in the middle of the DARC Ops mobile operation center. Three rock-band RVs, two large fold-out trailers and, for some reason, a half dozen dirt bikes parked randomly around the other vehicles.

He’d sat Logan down in a small boardroom in the forward operating office in one of the RVs. And he’d been glaring at him the whole time.

Logan said it again, “What do you mean we don’t have a lot to talk about?”

“Because it’s pretty simple,” Jackson said. “You disobeyed a clear order. You disobeyed multiple clear orders. I know that’s not how you got here.”

“Well,” Logan said, “It’s not . . . it’s not something that I make a habit of.”

“Or else you wouldn’t be here. Right. Why are you here, Logan?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why are you here with us? Is it just for the paycheck? If that’s the case,” Jackson said, “then we can take care of that another way.”

“You know I’m not here for money. Nor was I back when you—”

“Because I always thought you were a good kid.”

Logan tried to block that out, to not let it hurt so much. “Money was never the issue. You know what they pay in the army.”

“Sure, we have fun sometimes,” Jackson said, “and we get all the newest and shiniest toys. But I always thought you had . . .” He trailed off, looking up at the low ceiling of his RV.

“I do,” Logan said. “I do have a higher purpose. It’s why I disobeyed your order today.”

“I know we’re not the army,” Jackson said, looking back down from the ceiling and looking at Logan with softer eyes. “I know that. Shit, I break rules, too. But I don’t have a commanding officer. I have clients. And sometimes I have a government agency or two up my ass. But I’ve got no one that I have to really listen to. You get what I’m saying?”

“You’re saying I have to listen to you.”

“I’m not even saying that. That should be an absolute.” Jackson’s eyes hardened once again. “How is that not an absolute with you?”

“I know you take risks,” Logan said. “You have, and you always will. Don’t you leave a little room for that with your team? When everything’s on the line and one member has to make an executive decision? Can’t you risk through us?”

Jackson’s frown deepened.

“You give us the freedom to take risks and to—”

“Way too much freedom,” Jackson said, cutting him off. “I give you guys way too much freedom, I know.”

“It’s a good thing. It helps. It keeps us on our toes and creative.”

“Way too creative, too,” Jackson said.

“I just took the shot, Jackson. I had an open shot, and I took it.”

The DARC Ops leader looked over at his laptop for a moment, typed something up, and then turned back to Logan with, “We would have had our shot either way. That was the whole point of the training, the planning, the whole exercise. That’s why I had men stationed at their transfer point. I mean, fuck, if we wanted to go in cowboy style with guns blazing, I could have tracked them down at taken them out. It could have almost been as sloppy as the shit you pulled today.”

Logan could hear someone in the room next to theirs, a door opening and closing. Muffled voices through thin walls. He thought about how large the trafficking operation was, how many odds and ends, all the people who had been set up all across Mexico, how it had started at their base camp in Texas. All the careful planning, and then to end with unplanned car trouble for the target. And then unplanned holes in their heads. He figured it went with the territory. But Jackson didn’t seem so thrilled about his conclusion.

Jackson spoke again. “It was arranged in a very specific way to limit as much threat as possible, to take away any risk of casualties, both of locals in the crossfire and the kids. Most importantly, the kids.”

“I was thinking about that, too, Jackson. Like I said, it was a clear shot. It couldn’t have been any clearer.”

“Okay, the shot was clear. What about later?”

“Later?”

“What about when they had a clear shot on you?”

Inside his mind, Logan saw the darkness inside the gun barrel. The darkness pointed at him. Then he felt the other barrel in his back.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, hoping Jackson wouldn’t know what was on his mind. But Jackson was a smart man who’d seen a lot, and who had undoubtedly had guns pointed at him before. Stuck on him. Fired upon him. He was a man who undoubtedly thought about these things from time to time. After all, he was somehow human.

Logan wondered if that kind of thing ever kept Jackson up at night, if it made him more careful about things. Maybe that was the whole point of this, the rules and regulations even after the army.

“That was the risk you took,” Jackson said. “And if it was just you involved, fine. But we had those kids in the car in the middle of a crossfire. I’m not sure if you realized it at the time, but they had a sniper a block away trying to take you guys out once the plan went to shit. Did you know about that?”

Logan could still hear the deafening clunks of bullets as they hit the body of the van.

Jackson continued. “The cartel had someone there to do cleanup in case it went wrong. And it did go wrong. If we weren’t there, you and the kids and whoever else would have gotten mowed down.”

Logan looked away from his boss, thinking of the kids once more as he stared at the dust caked on his boots.

“I mean, you went in, and that took balls. So, congrats for that. But you went in hot and without backup, and especially without authorization. If we hadn’t been there to save your ass, we’d be looking at perhaps one of the most horrific crimes involving Americans abroad. And Mexico already has a bad enough rap.” Jackson shook his head, closing the laptop lid. “But let’s talk again about risks.”

Logan didn’t want to. He was finished talking about risks. He was maybe finished with it all.

“Let’s talk about a guy on probation taking risks,” Jackson said.

The thought never once crossed Logan’s mind that he was new. That he was still on probation. It was supposed to be his last mission on that status.

“You’re still on it, by the way,” Jackson said, a grimace crossing his face. “Probation. You’re lucky that’s all it is.”

Logan couldn’t work out what he was feeling. Was he irritated that he was still on probation, or that he was still on the team at all? He thought he’d made the decision, halfway across Mexico, up in the air in the helicopter. Alone in the back with his thoughts. The idea that he was tired of being tied down. He was tired of being a follower and not a leader.

“But if you can’t take orders,” Jackson said, “then I’ll have to let you go. I’ll dump your ass right here in Mexico if it comes to it. You got me?”

Logan didn’t offer a word or a nod. Nothing in response.

“You got me?” Jackson said, his eyebrows raised. “One more fuckup like that, and you’re out.”

Logan finally said, “Yes, sir.” He’d stick around, for now. If he indeed decided to leave DARC Ops, he could at least make it interesting.