It's Always Been You Page 4

  “Caitlin, it doesn’t—”

  “How many, Travis?”

  “Two.”

  “Why am I not in police custody?”

  “The embassy and I took care of it.”

  “What? How?”

  “It’s not your problem anymore.”

  “Travis—”

  “Damn it, Sarah. I handled it, okay? Get dressed; we leave in a fucking hour.”

  Childishly determined to get in the last word, she said, “My name is Caitlin.”

  She turned and strode back into the bedroom.

  *****

  “They’ve taken her to ground.”

  Alexandr Komarov’s gaze flickered away from his aquarium and landed on his henchman who had entered his study. His man inside the CIA had underestimated the strength of the specter agent. Adler thought they were myths, but Komarov knew better because he had a few as members of his Bratva. Unfortunately, they were away on assignments, and he had to use some of his lower level crew.

  Taking down Jase Locke wouldn’t have been easy if the man hadn’t already lost half the blood in his system. He was almost dead when they shot him. He had been useless for information, refusing to give up anything on his partner. His lover.

  Caitlin Kincaid had his money. There were rumors that she had amnesia, which would explain why Locke had nothing to bargain with. Not that the man could negotiate out the death sentence Alexandr had condemned on him. Locke murdered his two sons. There was no forgiveness for that. His sons should have been the next in line to take over the Bratva. The double-crossing Locke turned out to be an embedded deep cover agent known as specter agents—a special division of the CIA. Locke’s cover was blown—ratted out by one of the specter agents during a meeting. A bloody shootout occurred and Locke disappeared, along with $100 million of Komarov’s money.

  The experimental branch of the CIA known as Project Infinity was rife with corruption. The loose oversight and billions of dollars passing through the hands of their agents from money laundering schemes were too tempting to keep most of them honest. And so the project imploded, and the agency cut them loose. The few that were honest were hunted down and assassinated. The corrupted specter agents dispersed and joined the organizations they were tasked to infiltrate. They had become the deadliest enforcers of the mob.

  “How could she just disappear?” Komarov asked. “Don’t we have eyes inside the embassy?”

  “We do. But we have a big problem.”

  Alexandr remained silent, which was a signal for his man to continue.

  “The man who subdued her at the embassy is a security specialist, Travis Blake.”

  “The name sounds familiar.”

  “Blake Security Inc. is a rapidly growing security firm.”

  “What kind of security?”

  “Mostly executive protection. One of the best on the U.S. east coast.”

  Alexandr cursed. “So you’re telling me she could be on a flight to the U.S. right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “How could this have happened?” Alexandr roared as his henchman cringed. He had been so goddamned close to his goal with a fucking man in place to execute his plan. “One little girl and those three idiots couldn’t handle her.”

  “She moved quickly—“

  “Fucking Adler underestimated her. You know how our friends can get . . . a little crazy,” Komarov said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Komarov turned back to his aquarium to calm his rising frustration. “The timing of a security specialist showing up and taking Ms. Kincaid tells me someone is aware of what she knows. I want you to find out everything about Travis Blake. See if he has any weaknesses—family members—anything we can use to make him give up Caitlin Kincaid.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alexandr waved his hand to dismiss his henchman. At least he had flushed out the elusive Ms. Kincaid, and they weren’t exactly at a loss for where she could be. Travis Blake was a dead man for even thinking he could steal that money.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Gulfstream 550 landed at Dulles International airport at 2:00 a.m. Nate and his team who were working a BSI assignment in Frankfurt also hitched a ride back with Travis. The men stole curious glances at the blonde woman sitting beside him. Only Nate had known Caitlin five years before. Travis decided to get used to calling her Caitlin. That was what she wanted, and he conceded that it would be less confusing for her to adjust to her life with him. As revelations started piling up like an avalanche, he wasn’t even sure Sarah Quinlan was even her real maiden name. Nate had dug up some information that prior to being Sarah Quinlan, she may have been Sandra Deacon. His source was unnamed. He only said that he was an ex-CIA operative who had direct involvement with the specter agent projects.

  He watched her bend over to stuff her eReader into her backpack. He needed to take her shopping. She had nothing. Travis suddenly had a fierce desire to take care of her, to spoil the shit out of her. Three years’ worth of what he wanted to do for her, what he wanted to show her, and he couldn’t wait to get started. He just hoped she was up for it. She still wasn’t comfortable with him, so he tried not to be too pushy in trying to pick up where they had left off. There was no catching up because she didn’t have a single fucking frame of reference with him. He certainly noted how her eyes flared in appreciation as they traveled up his body at the hotel. She was interested. And he struggled to keep his cock down and not have it jerk in attention. Sex had never been a problem between them. They were a combustible pair who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

  This forced restraint from his side was going to drive him crazy, if not kill him first.

  The plane had pulled into a private hangar. His Escalade was already parked there, so when they disembarked the plane, he nodded to Caitlin to head in the direction of the black SUV as he rolled his suitcases behind him. The sum of his wife’s belongings were in a damned backpack. He cursed John Cooper/Jase Locke all over again. Even as she tried to hide it, Travis knew Caitlin was devastated with the death of Locke, so he was trying his damnedest to hide that he actually hated the bastard and would’ve hunted him down and killed him all over again if given the chance. Not only for taking his wife, but for also getting her hurt. When he undressed her yesterday, he found scars on her leg and face that were not there before. He had skimmed his fingers along her face while she slumbered, tracing the scar that started from her hairline by her temple and ran parallel to the lines of her jaw. Fury started to ratchet up inside him again.

  “Everything all right?” Caitlin glanced back questioningly at him.

  “Huh? What?” Shit.

  “You, um, growled.”

  “Someone put a dent in my car,” Travis fibbed. Get a grip, Blake, or you’re going to freak her out. “Pissed me off.” And now he sounded like a pretentious prick because the only dent on the car was a barely visible ding on the door.

  “Right.” Caitlin shrugged.

  He bleeped the locks and deposited the suitcases into the cargo area. He got in the driver’s side and flashed her a reassuring smile.

  Her lips lifted—barely a smile, but it was something.

  Fuck, he felt like he was on a first date. In high school.

  “Have you always lived in DC?”

  “No.” He backed out of the space. “We lived in Virginia Beach for a while. I was a SEAL based out of there.”

  “SEAL Team Six?”

  Travis quirked a brow. “Yeah. You remember that?”

  “They were on the news.”

  “Oh.” He was disappointed. Yes, his former SEAL unit recently made waves taking down a high-value target, but he had hoped she remembered something. He waved at the other guys on the way out.

  “If you were deployed, we couldn’t have been together that much.”

  “We made each day count, sunshine girl,” Travis said softly.

  He felt her freeze beside him.

  “What did yo
u call me?” she whispered raggedly.

  “Sunshine girl,” Travis repeated, cutting her a sharp glance. “What is it, Caitlin?” Hope sparked inside him.

  “A dream.” Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her.

  “You dreamt of me?”

  “I don’t know what’s a memory and what’s purely a dream,” Caitlin admitted. “But you did call me sunshine girl.”

  Travis gripped the steering wheel tightly. “What was the dream all about?”

  “Not sure. It’s very short. I was in bed. I couldn’t make out your face, but you were taking pictures.”

  “Videos.” He grinned. “I loved taking little videos of you. Especially after—”

  “Don’t—”

  “Were you naked? Just fucked?”

  “Oh, God! Stop,” Caitlin said, her mortification evident. Even if he couldn’t clearly see her face in the limited light in the car, Travis was sure she was blushing.

  He chuckled. “This is good. You remember the memories that matter.”

  “Travis—”

  “All right, sunshine, I’ll behave.” He cast her a mischievous look, and she rolled her eyes at him.

  “So how often were you deployed?”

  “I was usually involved in Direct Action assignments,” Travis explained. “Small unit, short duration strike operations.”

  “So what? I’d see you one month out of every year?”

  “No, babe. I may have gone out for several weeks, but I came home for a week or two at a time.”

  They got on Route 66. Travis had a house in the suburbs of McClean, Virginia. He bought it right when he had set up Blake Security Inc.

  “Did you ever suspect I was hiding something from you?”

  Travis shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to go into that right now. Or rather, he didn’t want to find out that his wife had deceived him. They would have to talk about it eventually, just not today. “Listen, Caitlin. We didn’t know what had happened. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Whatever we uncover, I’m confident we can get past it. Do I make myself clear?”

  She nodded and looked out the window. Unable to help himself, Travis reached across the console and took her left hand in his right one. She was startled, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her tilt her head down to look at their linked hands before lifting her gaze to look at him. He held his breath. It was a loose grip, and she could easily pull away. Slowly, her fingers curled tighter into his.

  Travis wanted to thump the steering wheel with this small victory, and he had to bite his lower lip to control a stupid grin from breaking out.

  The rest of the trip was spent in companionable silence.

  Finally, he made the turn into his neighborhood.

  “Nice area,” Caitlin commented as they passed several custom-built homes.

  He drove up the sweeping driveway that made a semi-oval from the street to the house before curving around a manicured lawn to end back on the street. The front of the house was lit up with night lights—security was his business after all. More than that, it cast an interesting texture to the impressive stone facade. He had bought the house because it was a good investment, but his headspace at that time had not been in making it a home, which would explain the Spartan furniture that graced its rooms. His mother and Emily wanted to get involved and make the interior match the beautiful architecture, but he had put his foot down. He was glad he did as he glanced wistfully at the woman getting out of his car. It did need a woman’s touch, his woman. His wife.

  Fuck, he had to stop daydreaming and get her sorted out first.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Caitlin said, standing in front of the car, staring in awe at the house.

  His chest puffed with pride. “Our home, Caitlin.”

  He unlocked the nine-foot tall, carved wood door and pushed it open. He let Caitlin step through to the foyer and followed in quickly so he could turn off the alarm. He began flipping the light switches to illuminate the rest of the house.

  “Are you hungry? Want me to make you a sandwich?” Travis asked.

  “I’m really tired, Travis,” Caitlin said. “Would you mind showing me to my room so I can crash?”

  He tried to hide his disappointment, but he could hardly blame her. She looked extremely tired, even if she had dozed off the entire trip stateside. Besides, 3:00 a.m. wasn’t exactly the best time to do a house tour.

  “Of course.” He was tempted to take her to his room.

  He led her down the hall to an ornately railed staircase that led to the second floor.

  “You need furniture.”

  “Hmm . . .” Travis agreed as they mounted the stairs. “We can go shopping this weekend.”

  “Travis, I think we’re moving too fast.”

  They reached the top floor. He walked ahead to lead her to her room.

  When he didn’t reply, she tried again. “We can’t just pick up where we left off.”

  Her words prickled his chest and deflated his mood. She was right. That didn’t mean she should avoid reconnecting with him.

  Travis opened the door to her bedroom. He’d left word with Emily to have the room prepared, and it appeared she had come through. The room had been aired out, and the scent of freshly washed linen wafted to his nose.

  “Travis, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or unwilling to try—”

  “Stop,” Travis cut in. He leaned against the doorjamb as she put her backpack on the mattress. “You need time to adjust. I get that.”

  “It’s not just time. What if I don’t know how to be your wife anymore?”

  He pushed away from the doorframe and stalked toward her. Gripping her shoulders tightly, he hauled her against him, and his mouth crashed down on hers. Her lips resisted at first, but a moan escaped her, and he took advantage and plunged his tongue inside to taste her. God. The minty taste of gum mixed with the sweetness that was so uniquely Caitlin short-circuited his brain. It had been too fucking long. One hand cupped the back of her head, the other drifted to her ass as he pressed her against him, grinding them together as he invaded her mouth fervently. She kissed him back. She fucking kissed him back.

  He broke the kiss and held her eyes. “That right there tells me otherwise. We’ll find each other again. And, sunshine, you’re not building a wall between us because I’ll take it down with a sledgehammer. Fucking amnesia has nothing on us, Caitlin. What we had before was once in a lifetime. You think having it, losing it, and getting it back, I’m going to let it slip through my fingers again? You married a SEAL. We’re tenacious, persistent, and we don’t know how to fail. You think with the greatest battle in my life, and that’s winning you back—I’m going to fuck up now? Not happening. You were mine. You will be mine again.”

  She was speechless. Her throat worked convulsively as if she had something to say, but what came out was a helpless squawk. Travis grinned down at her and brushed his lips against hers.

  “Sweet dreams, babe.”

  He turned and walked away, closing the door softly behind him.

  *****

  Travis frowned at the number of the incoming call. Benjamin Porter. What did the admiral want at 3:00 a.m.? He had been planning on calling him first thing tomorrow—well, later today—after he’d gotten Caitlin all settled in.

  “Blake.”

  “How’s your wife, Travis?”

  “She’s resting,” Travis replied. “Thanks for your help, Admiral.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I was going to call you—”

  “I’m outside.”

  Fuck.

  “I don’t want to leave Caitlin—”

  “She turned off the lights. She’s probably asleep.”

  Unbidden anger shot straight to his head. “You’re spying on us?”

  “I’m the CIA, Blake; what do you think?”

  Warning bells trilled through his consciousness. Something was up.

  “I’m not comfortable leavi
ng her alone.”

  “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.”