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"Last trace we found is from two years ago," Lock adds. "After that, nothing."

I shrug.

"Doesn't mean shit."

In our line of work, men disappear from the usual systems all the time. Cash jobs. Private contracts. Remote locations. Places where nobody asks for a home address, much less updates a fucking social media account.

I spent enough years doing it myself.

"Agreed," Grim says. "Just means we've got two years we can't verify."

"Wouldn't be the first contractor to go dark."

"Won't be the last," Ash adds.

Grim leans back.

"You trust him?"

"Trust the man I served with. Haven't worked alongside him in years."

"Fair answer."

"He's a good soldier, Prez. Knows how to follow orders. Knows how to keep his mouth shut."

"That last part's useful around here," Ash says.

I ignore him.

"He asked for a job four years ago," I tell Grim. "I couldn't give him one. Shit was still falling apart after that contract."

Mel had saved my ass once. When he needed help, I couldn't return the favor.

That'd eaten at me for a long fucking time.

"He didn't hold it against me," I continue. "Went his own way."

"And now he's back," Grim says.

"Yeah."

Grim considers that.

"He's not getting a patch because he's your friend."

"Didn't ask you to give him one."

"Prospect. Same rules as anyone else. He works, listens, and earns his place. You good with that?"

"Wouldn't have brought him here if I wasn't."

Grim nods.

"Then let's meet him."

Melvin Levine rolls through the gate twenty minutes later on an old black Harley.

I hear the engine before I see him.