Page 34 of Point of Contact

But now…

Dutch sighed into the phone. “I’ve got some bad news.”

Reed was on his feet almost instantly, regretting he hadn’t tried to get his hands on a weapon while they were stopped for money, supplies, and a phone. “Do I need to start moving?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Dutch paused. “We just got word that Courtney’s father was killed a few hours ago.”

He stared into the darkness as Dutch’s words sank in. They weren’t what he was expecting to hear and it took his brain a second to circle around the bite of adrenaline driving his thoughts. “What?”

“Yeah. I guess there’s some sort of turf war happening down there. A couple different groups fighting for control of imports, if you know what I mean.”

Reed raked one hand through his hair, turning back to face the camper before lowering his voice. "You're sure?"

He'd only just begun to see a different side of Courtney, and already knew enough to realize this was going to fuck her up.

"Positive. We sent a contact to confirm before I called you."

"But we thought the same thing about Courtney, and she's real fucking alive." He was searching for hope. Some chance he might not have to go into that camper and tell the woman inside the father he suspected let her down over and over again wouldn't have the opportunity to let her down again. Or the opportunity to change.

"We wouldn't have confirmed Courtney dead until we had actual proof." Dutch hesitated. "I take it this news isn't going to go over well?"

Reed worked his jaw from side to side. "Does it ever?"

There were probably some instances of people not caring when they learned about a family member’s death, but it wasn't often. Most people were upset, either because of the connection they had or because of the connection that would never be. Courtney was likely to fall into the latter.

"I'm sorry you have to be the one to deal with all this. Just keep moving. Get to Kentucky so Rico can pick you up. Then you won't have to fuck with it anymore."

Dutch thought he was reassuring him. Freeing him of the burden that was Courtney. But her presence wasn't feeling quite as oppressive as it once did. Not just because she saved his ass, proving she wasn’t exactly what he thought, but also because he was realizing how wrong it was to put her father's misdeeds on her shoulders.

It shouldn't have ever happened, but it definitely needed to stop now.

"It's fine. I'll handle it." He thanked Dutch before turning to the camper door, taking one final bracing breath before grabbing the handle and stepping in.

It was dark as hell inside without the glow of the moon or the fire, and it took his eyes a second to adjust. Once he could make out the shadowy lines of the interior, he flipped the lock and made his way to the back of the small RV. He'd been in a number of campers in his life, but the quarters of this particular model were about as tight as it got. If left very little room to move around as he kicked off his shoes, peeled off his sweatshirt so the heavy scent of smoke wouldn't taint the sheets, and climbed in beside her, laying on top of the covers.

"Princess?"

Courtney shifted, rolling toward him, her shadowy eyes open and showing no sign of sleep. "Who was on the phone?" Her voice was soft. Barely a whisper.

His stomach clenched, the thought of telling her there would be no more opportunities for her father to redeem himself twisting his insides. "It was Dutch. It was about your father."

She softly sniffed, lips pursing as they worked first to one side than the other. "He and I are really different." Her fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket. "He always believed he was untouchable. Smarter than everyone. Invincible." Her voice was sad, displaying an amount of emotion he'd never heard from her before. "But I always knew how much I lacked. I grew up knowing I was nothing more than a weakness. A weapon people would use against him. And for a long time I pretended like it didn't matter." She took a shuddering breath. "But it always did." Her fingers smoothed down the bit of blanket between them, the tips barely brushing against his skin. "Once I got older, I discovered being his daughter was more than just a liability for him. It was one for me too."

The ache in his chest got tighter, making it impossible to lay idle when she was in so much pain. He raised his hand and gently brushed back her hair, smoothing the strands that fell loose from her braid. "What does that mean?"

Courtney’s lips lifted into a sad smile. "It means that all anyone ever saw me as was his daughter. They either used me for it or avoided me because of it. I could never have real friends. Real relationships. Anyone who didn't see me through an Emiliano Vasquez colored lens."

Guilt compounded the ache in his chest and the twist in his gut. It brought out an admission he should have made earlier. “I did it.”

Courtney lifted the shoulder not pressed into the aging mattress. “Don’t feel bad. Everyone does.” One of her fingers left the blanket and lightly traced across his chest. “I try not to take it personally. I know it’s a lot to get past, and I’m not necessarily the easiest person to like.”

The fact that she was making excuses for his bad behavior only made everything worse. “You’re not hard to like.”

She huffed out a little laugh. “You’re not a good liar, Sexy Pants.”

Her comment cut into the sore spot he always carried. Because hewasa good liar. And a frequent one. Dished them out daily to the people who trusted him most.

But he wasn’t lying now, and the ramifications for that were getting more and more difficult to avoid.

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