Page 6 of Point of Contact

But right now he was caught between who he’d wanted to be and the reality of the life he was forced to choose.

His phone started to ring over the speakers and Heidi's name flashed across the touchscreen at the center of the dash. He connected her call and let his head fall back against the rest, closing his eyes against the reality settling around him. "I think she was in there."

Heidi let out a long breath. "Shit."

Reed nodded even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah."

"When will you know for sure?" He could hear Heidi typing on her keyboard, no doubt attempting to glean any information she could from where she was. Unfortunately, none of it would tell them whether or not Courtney was inside that house.

"Don’t know. They gotta make sure the structure is safe to enter before anyone goes in to do a search." He braced one elbow against the door, leaning his head into his hand. "I'll stick around until there's an official determination made."

He'd anticipated this trip would be a short one. Fly down, spend a day at the parks with Nate and his family, head to the Miami suburbs to tell Courtney she was on her own, fly back.

Unfortunately, he hadn't understood how on her own Courtney actually was. She'd made so many claims over the years. Used them as errand boys and personal assistants while claiming to be in a danger that didn't actually exist. So when she really was at risk, none of them believed it.

And now the sky had fallen.

"I think that's a good idea." Heidi's typing continued. "I'm booking you a room at the Hilton around the corner. Looks like you’ll be in room 453.”

"Thanks. I'll talk to you soon." He ended the call, gave Courtney's obliterated house one final look, and slowly pulled away, turning around in the middle of the street. He paused as a nosey neighbor ducked behind their bushes so no one caught their morbid curiosity.

Hopefully it wasn’t as morbid as he was afraid it was.

The address for the hotel flashed into his phone’s GPS and he went straight there, making it into his room just as the sun started to set.

He dropped his shit on the pull-out sofa and started peeling his clothes off, ready to put this day behind him. He was fucking exhausted, and not just because of the time difference.

Years of walking an imaginary line were starting to wear on him. Beginning to break him down in ways he hadn't expected. And it would continue happening because it had to. Alaskan Security needed him and, like it or not, he needed them. More and more with each passing day.

He took a quick shower, scrubbing hard like he might be able to rid himself of the shame and guilt continuously crawling over his skin. It never worked, and tonight was no exception.

He brushed his teeth, tossed his towel over the hook and climbed into the king-size bed, flipping on the television before promptly passing out.

Only to be awakened what felt like seconds later, but had actually been more than an hour. The timer on the television had shut it off and the room was dark, any light from the parking lot outside blotted out by the heavy curtains layered over the window.

He scrubbed one hand over his face, rubbing at his tired eyes. The sudden silence from the television turning off must have woken him up. He snagged his cell phone from the bedside table and checked the time. Twelve thirty. He'd been asleep for a few hours, but it felt like minutes. Probably because his day had been such a fucking mess.

He set the phone down and rolled to his side, adjusting the covers before drifting back toward sleep.

He was almost out when the soft sound of rustling fabric sent his eyes flying open. It wasn’t the television that woke him up. Someone was in his room.

His job had always been dangerous. Always put him one wrong move away from an early grave. He’d cheated death more than a few times and he’d do it again. Because dying wasn't something he could afford to do right now.

Reed continued breathing slow and deep, hoping to fool the intruder into believing he was still asleep. Unaware and defenseless, even though he was never either of those things.

He quickly scanned the space, but the darkness of the room was nearly complete, making it difficult for him to see exactly where he'd set his weapon. He'd been exhausted and distracted when he came in. Careless enough that his pistol wasn't beside his bed and he clearly hadn't flipped the safety latch on the door.

The soft sound of an inhale had the hair on the back of his neck standing up and every muscle in his body primed and ready to act. Without his weapon, he would have to rely on nothing more than his hand-to-hand combat skills. Skills he admittedly should have invested more time into maintaining.

Yet another way he was falling short.

When the mattress barely shifted behind him, he rolled, reaching out to grab whoever made the mistake of trying to sneak up on him. Yanking them into the center of the mattress, he straddled their hips, pinning their legs with his feet as one hand found their throat, squeezing just hard enough to cut off the oxygen without doing damage. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

He fought to keep his adrenaline from spiking out of control. He wasn’t afraid. He was more angry than anything. Pissed that yet another thing was going fucking wrong here.

The person under him didn't move. Didn't fight his hold. Didn't grab at his hand or try to yank it away.

He eased his grip and they immediately sucked in a breath.

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