Page 21 of Point of Contact

After one more deep breath, Courtney carefully wedged her body into the small opening, wiggling a little to get through before quietly stepping into the musty smelling space.

It wasn't filled to capacity with random items, so that was good. Maybe.

She stepped up, making her way in, listening for any sign someone else was there with her.

But all that met her was silence.

"Hello?" she whispered quietly. Quiet enough no one outside would hear, but loud enough anyone inside would. If someone was, in fact, in here, she wanted to find out now. While there was still a chance to escape.

But there was no response. So unless whoever was in here was as unconscious as Reed was, she was in the clear.

She held her breath, doing a quick check of the back end and finding nothing but an empty bed and a bathroom you couldn't pay her to step inside. The front end had a small couch, a booth-style dinette, and a tiny kitchen area, along with some sort of a bunk thing over the swiveling driver's and passenger’s seats.

It was old. It was stinky. But it was empty.

And hopefully it had gas.

She quickly pulled the side door closed, flipping the lock before hustling up to the front and dropping into the driver's seat. She'd hotwired more than a few vehicles in her years, but never one like this. And the dashboard looked a whole hell of a lot different than she was used to. She felt around, looking for a way to get at what she needed, but then paused, her eyes going to the visor. It wouldn't be that easy, would it?

But if a person lived in a house so packed with crap they could never find what they were looking for, maybe it would make sense to keep the keys somewhere safe. Somewhere they would never forget.

She straightened, taking a deep breath before grabbing the visor and flipping it down.

A set of keys and a dead moth dropped into her lap. She stared at them both for a second, a little in shock and a little terrified. It was more good luck. More bleeding from a limited well. And she hadn't even made it out of the state yet.

Of course, the thing could still be out of gas. Or the engine might not function at all. There could be a reason it was sitting here unlocked. Not because the owner didn't believe anyone would steal it, but because they knew they couldn't.

She picked up the keys, selected the one that looked like it went to the ignition, and shoved it in, saying a little prayer before twisting it away from her.

The fucking thing started right up. Sure, it sounded a little rough, but it was running. Even better, the gas gauge said the tank was full.

And as much as she hated all this good luck, she wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

She switched it into drive and eased onto the gas, trying to keep her escape as quiet as she could. Just in case whoever was in that house decided to wake up and end her lucky streak. The camper bumped along the uneven ground, making terrifying rattling noises that she was pretty sure meant the whole fucking thing was falling apart. But once she hit blacktop, those seemed to calm down a little, and she floored it, getting out of the neighborhood as fast as she could.

CHAPTER EIGHT

REED

HIS WHOLE BODY hurt. Every inch of skin felt like it had been raked over a cheese grater and his head was throbbing. The fact that the world wouldn't stop moving wasn't helping matters any.

Reed groaned as a particularly violent shift bounced his head, rocking his tender brain inside his skull. He pressed one palm to his temple, trying to stop the movement. But instead of finding the cropped line of his short hair, his palm rested against a thick band of webbing. He traced his fingers along the edge, following its path across his forehead and around his skull.

His head was bandaged. Why in the hell was his head bandaged?

It took every ounce of strength he had to push into a sitting position, and the change in elevation made the throb behind his eyes even worse, dragging another groan free. What the fuck happened to him? The last thing he remembered was—

He sat for a second, trying to piece together the events of the past twenty-four hours.

He was in Florida. Here to deal with Courtney. But, shocker, that wasn't going as planned. She came to his room, begging him to take her to Alaska. The explosion. Their escape.

They'd been in the overgrowth. Hidden between the road and the swampy waterway. She'd tried to storm off after he was an ass—again. He tried to chase her down, but...

That's when everything went black. Literally.

He rubbed at his burning eyes, rolling them around behind his lids as he tried to work up the gumption to open them. Discovering where he was wasn't necessarily something he was in a hurry to do. He worked his eyes open anyway, fighting against the confusion still making it difficult to focus.

Reed blinked a few times, then rubbed his eyes again, sure they were playing tricks on him. He didn't expect to still be outside, based on the softness of whatever he was lying on, but he certainly didn't expect this.

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