"I’m sorry for calling at this hour, but this is important. I need immediate protection for a client. High-profile, serious threat escalation."
Reid was already pulling up his encrypted calendar. "I can have a team assembled right away. What's the situation?"
"Stalker, increasingly aggressive. Broke into my client's hotel room tonight while he was asleep. He left photographs of him sleeping on a different night, so we know he’s done this before." Diane's voice was strained. "Reid, this is personal for me. This client… he's important. I need your best."
"You'll get my best. Brief me."
"His name is Cody Brennan."
Reid paused in the middle of reaching for his keyboard. "The country singer?"
"Yes. You know him?"
"I know of him." Everyone knew of Cody Brennan. His first three albums had gone platinum and he had huge crossover appeal, with a face that showed up on magazine covers and gossip sites all across the country. Reid had caught sight of him on an airport television screen once, exhausted eyes behind a practiced smile. "What's the protection scope?"
"For now, I think full isolation. The police are useless—no explicit threats, so they won't act. I need someone who can make him disappear completely and keep him safe while we investigate and figure out who's behind this."
Reid considered. High-profile clients were complicated—they came with entourages, publicity needs, and inflated egos. But a genuine threat was a genuine threat.
"I'll take point personally," he said. “Where are you?”
“Nashville.”
“Can you come to Montana?”
“Sure. Cody has use of a private plane.”
"Can you get here today?"
"We're already packing."
"Good. I'll send you the details of a private airfield. My business partner, Garrett, will arrange everything on this end. He’ll be in touch. Diane—from the moment I take custody, everything runs through me. No posts, no publicity, no contact with anyone I don't clear. Can your client handle that?"
"He'll handle it or I'll make him handle it. Just keep him alive, Reid."
After the call ended, Reid sat in the dark of his office and breathed through the familiar pre-operation focus. He thoughtabout his strategy for a moment then made three calls. One to his brother Garrett, who ran logistics and had a meticulous mind for the thousand details that kept operations running smoothly. He handled contingency routes, supply chains, and security protocols. The second call was to the caretaker of a ranch he owned that he used as a defensible safehouse asking him to get the place ready. The third call was to his conscience. A reminder of his primary rule—neverlet it get personal. It didn’t matter that Cody Brennan was devastatingly handsome. Or that he was gay.
Reid had built his reputation on always being professional. He didn't befriend clients, and most definitely didn't get emotionally involved with them. Besides, he couldn’t take the risk of falling for someone only to find his fated mate later. That was the kind of heartbreak he didn’t need and wouldn’t bestow on anyone else. It was better for all involved if he kept a safe, professional distance so that he could perform his job to the best of his ability. Reid kept people alive, collected his fee, then moved on. That professional distance was what made him so effective.
In shifter culture, mate bonds were considered sacred. The ultimate connection. One person, perfectly matched by fate who was recognized immediately by scent. The bond was irrevocable and all-consuming.
His father had found his mate at twenty-two. For years, Reid had watched his parents exist in perfect synchronicity—until his mother had died in a car accident. His father had survived another six months before grief literally stopped his heart.
Reid had been nineteen, and away at basic training. He'd come home for two funerals and made himself a promise—he would never allow a mate bond to compromise his effectiveness, his focus, or his survival. At thirty-five years old, he had so farbeen able to keep that promise. No bond. No weakness and no one to lose.
He intended to keep it that way.
Reid’s bear shifted under his skin reminding him that it had been a while since he’d last shifted into his bear form. He would have to do that soon or his bear would be pissed and try to force its way out.
By six, Reid was showering in the small bathroom he’d had installed off the office that had become a second home to him. He dressed in a fresh set of clothes he kept for situations like this one and ran through his checklist. Weapons secured. Vehicle prepped. Route planned. Safehouse readied. His morning interview had been handed over to his brother. He was good to go.
He loaded a few things into his truck. It was a matte black color with bulletproof panels and enough hidden modifications to qualify as a tactical vehicle. As soon as he was done, he started the drive to the private airfield where Cody would be arriving.
The Montana landscape rolled past, all big sky and bigger silence. Reid's bear was calm beneath his skin, a massive presence that had learned discipline through years of training. It was as controlled and reliable as Reid himself.
Reid’s mind was focused on one thing—the job he had to do. Keep Cody Brennan alive. By any means necessary. Simple. Professional. Uncomplicated. It didn’t matter that Cody was a handsome, talented, gay country singer because this was just another job.
Chapter Three
