It's Always Been You (6 page)

“I know. I have someone who’ll be watching the house.”

Shit. That means they were doing the whole rolling car thing.

Not wasting another minute, so he could return quickly, Travis set the alarm and left the house. He walked down his driveway, keeping to the shadows and spotted the black sedan parked on the street. He looked around and glanced back at his house in the direction of Caitlin’s room, hating to leave her by herself. He got into the car.

The vehicle slowly pulled away from the curb. The interior was dark, but Travis could make out Porter’s angular features and his buzz-cut head. He wasn’t a big man, probably five inches shorter than Travis and very leanly built. However, it was a mistake to underestimate the fifty-five-year old admiral. He worked for the Navy, but in reality, he was deeply involved in CIA covert operations. He looked scholarly with his glasses, but he was as deadly as any SEAL.

“I can’t express how happy I am that you have Sarah back.”

“Caitlin. That’s her name now.”

“You know why I’m here?”

“I have an idea.”

“You’ve asked about specter agents before. They do exist.”

“I had a feeling they do. But I’m not clear about their purpose? How are they different from regular black ops?”

“They’re extremely deep cover agents. They’re almost a separate entity from the CIA. They’re recruited at a young age. Most of them between the ages of fourteen and fifteen.”

“Jesus . . . tell me you have nothing to do with that.”

“I don’t. Not directly, and that’s all I can admit to.”

“Is Caitlin a specter agent?” Travis already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it from Porter.

“She belongs to Project Infinity.”

“The tattoo.”

“Yes.”

“Is she in danger?”

Porter exhaled deeply. “That’s the reason I’m here. I just got word that Komarov is coming for her.”

Cold, crushing fear gripped Travis’s heart. “Over my dead body,” he snarled.

“Don’t underestimate the Russian, Blake. He’s got specter agents working for him.”

“What? What the fuck, Porter?”

“Project Infinity imploded around the time Sarah disappeared. Too much dirty money was being laundered, too many agents corrupted. The agency had to shut it down.”

“Disavowed,” Travis sneered. “Fucking CIA. No offense, Porter, but some of your colleagues are fucking assholes.”

The older man shrugged. “I can help, Travis.”

“How?”

“Komarov wants his money. From what I’ve gathered, Caitlin had it locked away in four accounts. She’s a hacker, Travis. That was her tradecraft with Project Infinity. The CIA has a facility that could help her regain her skills.”

“Get her memory back?”

“No. Not the short-term memory that you’re thinking. It’s more about muscle memory for the brain. What you’ve already learned, say in school, is filed away in a different area in the brain and is easier to regain.”

“How much money are we talking about?” Maybe he could just pay off the fucker.

“A hundred million.”

Fuck
. He didn’t have that sum of money right now. Not for another five years at least.

“I can also help with her blackouts.”

“That was my immediate concern,” Travis said sharply. “Did the agency perform experiments on them?”

The deep sigh from Ben Porter confirmed his suspicions.

“What did they do to her?” he bit out.

“It’s what we call the Berserker serum.”

“Berserker what?” Travis wasn’t sure he heard the admiral correctly.

“BSK was an experimental serum that makes the body produce massive amounts of adrenalin. It usually kicks in when the agent perceives a threat. It makes them incredibly strong and fast.”

“How can that help? If the agent blacks out and can’t differentiate friendlies from hostiles?”

“They’re not supposed to black out.”

“I’m telling you, she did.”

Porter hesitated for a beat before continuing, “There’s an anti-serum that’s supposed to be taken after the mission is completed. Without its timely administration, the side effects are permanent, unstable surges of adrenalin. Among those affected, thirty percent experience blackouts.”

“Is there a cure?”

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“You have to induce an episode. The anti-serum will be effective if it is given when the subject is in full berserker mode.”

“Whoever invented that shit has an odd sense of humor,” Travis scoffed. “I sure hope they’ve shut it down. If you’ve witnessed what happened to Sar—Caitlin, seriously fucked up, man—Sir.”

“Because of the high percentage of blackouts, it was shut down,” Porter said. “But we’ve kept a stash of anti-serums.”

Travis nodded.
 

“So, Blake. Do you want me to help your wife?”

“Of course. But I’ll have to talk to her. I’m not forcing her to do this.”

“You don’t want her to be forever looking over her shoulder, Travis.”

“I know, Sir, but I just got her back—”

“I get that, Blake. But sorry to bust your bubble, son, you don’t have the luxury of savoring this reunion. Not if there’s an arms dealer gunning for your wife. No pun intended.”

Travis grunted. “Give me today with her.”
 

“All right.”

“I really want to get back to her now, Sir.”

Porter tapped the roof of the car. The privacy screen of the sedan lowered and he gave instructions to turn back.

*****

Caitlin dipped her toes in the pool. The water was warm, but there was a chill in the air. She must have been really tired because she slept like the dead. Eight hours of uninterrupted slumber. Now it was almost noon, and she was starving. Even that energy bar she grabbed from the box on top of the fridge did nothing to assuage her gnawing hunger. She ate for days after one of her berserker episodes. She also slept for days. Eat. Sleep. She glanced impatiently at the house; willing Travis to wake up already. She didn’t feel right rummaging through his kitchen, even if she was supposed to be his wife. Her brain was still processing the idea, but the kiss last night awakened that familiar feeling that fleeted through her the first time she laid eyes on him.

She heard the slamming of doors from the house and rapid-fire cursing. Frowning, she made her way back to the attached patio to peer inside. The sliding glass door was violently shoved on its tracks, and Travis appeared, a wild look on his face, which settled into lines of relief when he saw her.

Uh-oh
.

He exhaled deeply. “I thought you left.”

“Where would I go?”
 

“You disappeared before, S—Caitlin. How the fuck did you disable my alarm?”

“I entered the code?”

Travis scowled at her. “You didn’t used to be such a smart-ass.” He paused. “That was an eight-digit code. You caught that?”

At the bored look she cast him, he muttered, “Never mind.” He stood aside to let her in, but she felt the heat emanating from him. Travis was all primal male. He was wearing a shirt with the sleeves cut off and a pair of shorts. She noticed the layer of dark hair covering his forearms making his bronze skin seem even darker.

“Have you eaten?”

“No. I’ve had a protein bar. But I’m still hungry.”

His lips quirked up. “Well then, let’s get you fed, sunshine girl.”

Caitlin’s heart skipped a beat hearing the fondness in his tone. He was happy and content. She allowed herself to absorb the moment. She learned her lesson last night. He was determined to break down her resistance, and he was employing every weapon in his arsenal, including his body. And what a delicious-looking body it was.

Travis was bent over in front of the fridge, grabbing the egg carton and a package of sausage. When he straightened and turned around to put the food on the table, his eyes flickered briefly to hers. Caitlin’s eyes landed on his lips. A shiver passed through her as she remembered the kiss again.
 

Travis hissed, a ruddy color creeping up his neck. “Caitlin.” His voice was measured, low. “Babe, I’m trying to be a good guy here and give you the space you need. But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for the consequences.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice came out squeaky.

His grin was cocky. “Don’t think I don’t feel this sexual tension between us. You’re wondering what it’s like to be underneath me; me fucking you.”

Her jaw dropped open. She snapped it shut and was about to say something else when Travis cut her off.

“Shit. Sorry, Caitlin.” He leaned forward and gripped the edges of the countertop, looking down his front. “Can’t help it around you. You make me so hard.”

“Travis!”

“What? I’m not going to fucking deny you turn me on. Jesus, Sarah, it’s been three years,” Travis snapped. His knuckles turned white on the countertop, and if it wasn’t granite, Caitlin was afraid he would have splintered it.

Caitlin tittered. “A man like you? Not have sex for three years? Puh—lease.”

“A man like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Travis narrowed his eyes at her.
 

She flipped an arm out in a careless wave. “You don’t seem the type to fish for compliments, Travis. You know exactly what I mean. I’d be surprised if women didn’t throw themselves at you.”

Travis was quiet. He released his death grip on the countertop and unhooked a pan from the pot rack hanging over the center island. “Nine months after you died, I left the SEALs. I drifted aimlessly, went to bars, and had a couple of one-night stands. Without the SEALs and a mission, I went into a downward spiral.”

She didn’t know why his revelation pinched her heart, because he had every right to move on, but it did.

“Three months. I thought I could fuck the pain out of my heart with faceless women.” Travis didn’t look at her but concentrated on cracking the eggs into a bowl to scramble. “It didn’t work. I stopped when I accidentally called a woman by your name.” He put the bowl down, and when he looked up, his face was ravaged with anguish. “I wasn’t even close to moving on.”

“Travis—”

“Also around that time, a friend of mine—Ben Porter—I’ll explain who he is later— approached me about a security gig to protect a senator,” Travis said. “I can’t share with you the specifics of what transpired, but it gave me hope that you were alive.”

“Travis—”

“In my heart, I felt you were alive, Caitlin,” Travis said. “I refused to let go.”

She walked toward him because seeing him in pain like this was slowly tearing her apart as well, but he held up his hand.

“Babe, don’t. Don’t come near me right now.” His voice was guttural and rife with warning. “If you don’t want to get fucked over this kitchen counter, keep your distance.”

That made her stop dead in her tracks.

“My control is at its end, sunshine.” Travis tried to force a smile through his tense features. “Three years of longing, having you so close to me now, I just want to haul you under me and sink myself so deep inside you, feel your warmth around me gripping me, making sure that you’re really here, and it’s not a fucking dream.”

All right, was she supposed to feel turned on? Because she freaking was!

“
Uh . . .” Yes, that was all she could say.

Travis shifted his gaze away from her and started the stove. “Go change, babe. Seeing you in my shirt and nothing else . . . only so much a man can take.”

That galvanized her into moving, and she scampered away like a mouse being chased by a hawk.

*****

After a quick shower, pulling on a pair of jeans, and covering up with one of her own shirts, Caitlin made her way back to the kitchen. Eggs and sausages were already on the table, and Travis was slicing through a crusty boule, but he was on speaker with someone else. He glanced up briefly at her.
 

“Gotta go, Em. Just bring the files here. We’ll sort it out.”

“But your interviews—” an annoyed, but sweet female voice spoke over the phone.

“Re-schedule the interviews for tomorrow after lunch.”

“The security brief is due tomorrow afternoon.”

Travis cursed. “All right. Have Shephard interview them.”

There was a long pause.

“That’s so unlike you, Travis. You’re always hands-on.”

“Things are about to change; I trust your man to get things done.”

“Beatrice won’t be pleased.”

“Look, we’ll discuss this when you drop the files. Give Shephard a heads up.”

There was a sigh and then, “Fine. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Travis finished cutting the bread and gestured for Caitlin to take a seat. “Dig in, babe.”

“Looks like I’m infringing on your time for work.” She tried to act nonchalant about it and speared a couple of the fluffy morsels on her plate. Travis knew how to make proper scrambled eggs.
 

Travis frowned at her as he slid the bread cutting board toward her. “Just need to shuffle things around. It’s time I delegated anyway.”

Caitlin nodded. “Did I used to know her?”

“Emily?”

“Yes.”

“No. I hired her after I started the business. Her husband Edward Shephard was a buddy of Nate’s, and no, you didn’t know Ed either.”

“Who did I know, then?”

“Nate. A couple of my SEAL buddies like Gabe. My parents and sister.”

Caitlin inhaled sharply. “Your parents?”

“Well . . . yeah,” Travis replied. His eyes turned cautious, like he was watching for signs of a freak out. “I told Emily to keep a lid on your return. Give you a chance to adjust before springing my family on you.”

She released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Thanks.”

“My family loved you, Caitlin,” Travis whispered, his hand closing over hers. “They will again. Don’t worry about it.”

For a few minutes, all that was heard was the tinkling of silverware as both of them contemplated this change in both their lives. At least, that was what Caitlin was thinking. What would she do? Play housewife? Somehow she knew that would drive her crazy. She was good with computers and code. She could learn a new programming language and get a job.