Rico rubbed his eyes as he entered the dim lab room beneath one of their safehouses, still nursing a coffee that had gone cold an hour ago. Monitors flickered behind him, each screen stacked with code windows and GPS overlays.
Alex stood near the centre terminal, arms crossed, jaw tense.
"You called me in early," Rico muttered, setting his coffee down beside a mess of flash drives. "That usually means something either blew up or something is about to. Please tell me it's the second one."
Alex didn't flinch. "I need eyes on Ava Reed."
Rico blinked. "Your Ava?"
"Of course, who else," Alex replied quickly, too quickly. Then he added, "Just… set up discreet surveillance. A car tail. A silent GPS ping every time her phone touches an encrypted channel. Passive only. No direct contact."
Rico straightened, the joke draining from his face. "That's not just a red flag, man. That's a damn flare gun."
"I know what I'm asking," Alex said. "Just do it."
