Page 17 of Point of Contact

Normally, her comment would aggravate the piss out of him, but she'd just done something most men wouldn't do. She’d hiked through alligator infested waters, and hadn't complained at all. He could cut her some slack. "Funny."

The twitching of her lips bloomed into a small smile. "I told you I was funny." She looked around, the humor slipping from her face. "Now what?"

"Now we figure out how to get to the airport so Rico can come pick us up." It was really the only option they had. His phone, his wallet, his laptop—all of it was in the hotel room. Or more likely in the hands of whoever was after Courtney.

And they clearly didn't believe she was as dead as she hoped.

Courtney looked him over before glancing down at her mud splattered legs. "Should we get some clothes so we don't look quite so—"

Reed lifted his brows, waiting for her to explain exactly what she believed she currently looked like. Courtney was all about appearances, so he had a few good guesses of what was about to come out of her mouth.

Her lips quirked to one side as she tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. "Questionable."

"Questionable?" He huffed out a laugh. "That's how you think we look right now?"

Courtney propped both hands on her hips, looking a little offended. "I definitely wouldn't stop to help us. We look like we’re more than capable of mugging someone and leaving them in a ditch."

She wasn't wrong, it was just surprising that this was the observation she made. The Courtney he knew would be completely disgusted at her current state. She was covered up to her knees in God knows what, wearing nothing but his borrowed T-shirt, her hair a sweaty mess. Definitely nothing like the always made-up prima donna he’d dealt with in Alaska.

"And where do you suggest we find these new clothes?" He watched her closely, mildly interested in what she would say next.

Courtney's eyes left his, roaming all around them as she lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "I don't know. I'm sure we could find some somewhere."

She was acting strange. Almost like she had something to hide, but he didn't know what it might be. "I'm pretty sure there aren't fresh, clean piles of clothes stacked around here." He dug one hand into his pocket, hoping to find something besides the room card, but came up as empty as he expected. "I've got no cash. No credit cards. No way to get us anything new to wear." He pinned his gaze on her. "And I'm guessing you don't have a credit card hidden anywhere on you."

Courtney snorted. "I fucking wish." She shook her head. "After this, you can bet your asshole I'm gonna hide prepaid cards all over the place though." She turned to face the roadway. "I guess we better start walking. The farther we make it before the sun comes up, the better off we’ll be since I'm pretty sure anyone who sees us coming is going to call the cops."

Reed paused, thinking over what she said. "Maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing that happened. Whoever's after you clearly suspects you're not actually dead, and has already tied you to me. So maybe involving the police is the smartest thing we can do."

If nothing else, it would give him an opportunity to contact his team, verify who he was, and get them to the airport. To keep her safe until she made it to Alaska and could go on her merry way.

But Courtney immediately rejected his idea, shaking her head vehemently. "No. No cops."

"They already believe you’re alive, Princess." He pointed one hand in the general direction of the hotel. "And considering the clothes you came in wearing are still in that room, they're going to be even more sure now."

Courtney’s eyes narrowed at him as she moved closer. “In case you didn’t realize it, most cops don’t look favorably on drug smugglers.”

It was a fact he was quite aware of. Probably more than she’d expect.

“But you’re not a drug smuggler.” He almost didn’t believe the concession came out of his mouth.

She huffed out a bitter laugh. “It doesn’t matter what I am. It only matters what my father is.”

There was no point in arguing with her. She was right. How many times had he put blame for her father’s misdeeds right on Courtney’s head?

Too many to count.

Not once had it bothered him. Not once had he felt bad about it. Not once had he considered he might be in the wrong.

“Fine.” Reed crossed his arms, forcing his focus from the tug of guilt trying to make him feel sorry for her. “What would you suggest we do then?”

Courtney seemed to perk up a little. “I think we should break into a house and steal some clothes.” She pursed her lips. “And maybe a car.”

He almost laughed. For a second there he’d started to let himself look at Courtney as a victim instead of a criminal he was forced to protect. “You said that pretty easily, Princess. Like you go around breaking into houses all the time.”

Courtney’s eyes narrowed as she stood taller. “Are you seriously judging me right now? That’s awful hypocritical of you, Sexy Pants.” She stepped closer, the hint of frailty when they discussed her father all but gone. “Because I’m pretty sure more than a few lives have ended because of you.” She smirked. “And I can say with complete certainty I’ve never killed anyone.”

There were so many parts of her statement that rubbed him the wrong way, but only one he cared to comment on. “Did you just call me Sexy Pants?”

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