“Tavoularis, you okay?”
The voice in his earpiece did little to calm his nerves. He knew Ryan Trexler and the Sniper 1 Security team were monitoring them via the sensors in their equipment. They’d be able to see his respirations, his heart rate, even his body temperature.
It did nothing to reassure him. In fact, it irritated him more than anything.
“Tavoularis?” RT repeated, his tone harder than before.
“Fine,” he bit out, hating that there were witnesses to his panic attack.
“Clear,” Baz called out. “Prisoner’s not here.”
“Lights comin’ on,” RT announced.
Reese yanked the NVGs off seconds before the overhead lights clicked on, flooding the area in a white-blue glow, the simulation ending.
Overhead, Reese could see the ceiling of the warehouse, knew he wasn’t locked in a six-by-six cinderblock hell, but it didn’t help. With his weapon at his side, he marched out of the room, then through the maze of shipping containers that made up the obstacle course designed to put the Sniper 1 agents through their paces.
“We’re gonna call it,” Brantley announced, his voice streaming into Reese’s ear.
“The hell we are,” Reese snapped as he joined the others in the command center office where the team was monitoring their actions through a variety of equipment. On one of the screens, he noticed Hunter Kogan, along with Hunter’s brothers Trace and Conner—the targets Reese and his team had been searching for—appearing in one of the corridors.
“We’re good for today,” Brantley insisted.
Reese squared off with the man, hating that he was so defensive, but unable to hide his frustration over the fact Brantley would coddle him like that. If this had been a real extraction, the hostage would’ve been as good as dead.
“One more time,” Reese snarled back at him.
To his shock, Brantley stood his ground, facing off with him. “I said we’re done. We’ve accomplished what we came to do.”
“The hell we have.” Reese and his team had yet to locate and rescue the hostage, which was the sole objective of the simulated mission.
RT stepped over. “If it’s any consolation—”
“It’s not.” Reese slapped his laser gun on the table, then tossed the goggles alongside it. “Fuck you both.”
Without looking back when Brantley called after him, Reese stormed out of the building.
He needed some air.
Hell, he needed a drink, and that was saying something considering he wasn’t the sort who sought booze to manage his stress levels. For whatever reason, this particular training exercise had pushed him to his limits.
Reese fucking hated that, for the past three hours, he’d failed every time he attempted to rescue the hostage. Didn’t matter that it was all fake, that ultimately RT and Brantley controlled the outcome. It didn’t make him feel any fucking better because they didn’t control Reese’s reaction, the panic that flooded him whenever he was in a dark, confined space.
When he stepped outside into the blazing Texas sunshine, Reese took a deep breath, but he didn’t stop walking. He considered making a beeline for the truck parked with a line of other vehicles, all there for the same training exercises Reese had just undergone. Instead, he headed around to the side of the building.
He’d bet good money that no one else would go into a full-blown panic simply by walking into a dark room. It wasn’t the first time, either, and he hated that it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Pacing along the length of the enormous metal building, Reese allowed his breaths to return to normal. Being outside helped.
He was on another trek away when he heard the door slam shut, knew it was Brantley coming to check on him. It was enough to ratchet up his frustration another notch.
“You okay?” Brantley asked when Reese pivoted and headed in his direction.
“Fine,” he snapped. “I don’t need you checkin’ up on me.”
As soon as the words were out, he could see the surprise on Brantley’s face. If he hadn’t been seconds from that damn panic attack, he would’ve felt shitty for using Brantley as his verbal punching bag.
“What can I do to help?” Brantley asked, his tone harder than before.
