It's Always Been You

by Paige, Victoria

  Caitlin poked her head in the study after waking from a four-hour nap, asking him if he wanted a sandwich. Travis wasn’t hungry, but he nodded because this was what Sarah used to do for him—prepare his lunch or dinner while he was fixing stuff around the house. Now he was this sappy fool who craved any semblance of the life they had. He ignored the scowl Ed Shephard shot him when he told the guys to take five when Caitlin came back with his sandwich.

  His wife apologized for interrupting, but Travis waved that off, stood up, and gave her a hug. She was stiff in his arms, but he refused to let her go until she relaxed. And she did. “I missed you today,” he whispered in her ear.

  She chuckled in that familiar husky sound. “You just saw me not four hours ago.”

  “I don’t care.” He planted a kiss on the side of her head. “I. Missed. You.” Those last three words had an altogether different meaning. They stood quietly together for a few more minutes, before Travis reluctantly pulled away. “I need to get these interviews done.”

  “I understand. Don’t worry about me,” Caitlin replied. “I just checked out the TV room. You have a gazillion channels. I’m going to be well entertained.”

  And that was how Travis found her. Asleep on the couch, with the SyFy channel on with some cheesy B-movie that crossed a shark with an octopus. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey sat completely consumed on the coffee table. Grinning and shaking his head, Travis crouched down in front of Caitlin and took the opportunity to trace the outline of her face. God. He loved her so fucking much. Those feelings had not dimmed in the past three years and only flared into a conflagration waiting to explode in his chest.

  He stood and bent over her, slipping his arms under her back and behind her knees to lift her. She mumbled incoherently in protest.

  “Shh . . . shh . . . sunshine, let’s get you more comfortable,” Travis whispered. She weighed nothing, and he made a mental note to fatten her up. She was thinner than she used to be, but was more toned. When they reached her room, he shifted her slightly to open the door, careful not to let it bang against the wall. He lowered her on the bed, which was still unmade from her previous nap. Her scent was already on the sheets, a heady mixture of citrus and her own musk. He reluctantly pulled the blanket over her, preparing to leave, but her hand shot out and grabbed him.

  “Where are you going, Ace?”

  Travis froze. “Sarah?” Only Sarah called him that. Holy fuck.

  “It’s late, Travis, come to bed.”

  “Sarah?” he repeated hoarsely.

  She let go of his hand, turned, and burrowed deeper into the pillows.

  He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting to make sense of this curve ball thrown his way. He backed away slowly. The Sarah he knew was gone. He needed to get that through his damned head before it drove him insane.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Caitlin opened the door to a smiling Sam Harper. The blond man was a new recruit of BSI and had been her constant shadow for the past two weeks whenever Travis was not around to keep an eye on her.

  “Ready, Ms. Kincaid?” Sam smiled congenially. Though barely out of his mid-twenties, he had a mature and calm carriage. He couldn’t exactly be described as an attractive man. His nose was crooked and wide at the base. His skin had a few pockmarks; his eyes were beady. He wasn’t a tall man either, but his fit physique screamed of power behind every step.

  “I told you to call me Caitlin.” She smiled at him.

  Her sleep and eat cycle lasted for two days; after which, Travis quickly whisked her to his personal physician for a full-medical checkup. Afterward, he took her straight to the CIA psychological rehabilitation facility called the NEST (Neurological & Empathetic Stimulation & Testing).

  Sam loaded her up in the Audi sedan, and soon, they were on their way to her appointment. It had become her routine—sessions from ten a.m. to three p.m. at the NEST. Her shrink, Dr. Monica Lester, arranged a battery of tests on her first day. A fifty-page questionnaire, ink blots, some abstract evaluations, and of course, a general one-on-one verbal assessment. Travis accompanied her on her first three visits, and worked in the building’s cafeteria as he waited for her. But BSI had consumed his time in the past week and he had depended on Sam to take her to her appointments. Travis was anxious to get her well and was annoyed that he wasn’t allowed to share in her sessions with Dr. Lester yet.

  This was a good thing.

  Dr. Lester wanted her to process her feelings for Jase. The man who had been her constant for three years, who had, in all likelihood, stolen her from another man. Did she hate Jase? She couldn’t. Ever. But there was a hurt that went deep; she felt betrayed. Her feelings for Jase were more platonic than romantic; she acknowledged that now. And if Caitlin were honest with herself, sex between them was more of just a release. She had never reached the degree of sexual tension that she was currently experiencing whenever she was in the presence of Travis.

  Sam wasn’t much of a talker when he was driving. Caitlin noticed how his eyes continually scanned the road before and behind them. She resumed her recollection of the strange procedure from yesterday. Dr. Lester turned her over to a technician in a lab coat who didn’t even bother to identify herself. But Caitlin noted that the tech’s name plate read “Smith.” Really?

  She was led into a room and sat in a reclining chair outfitted with an overhead helmet fitted with probes.

  “Uh . . . what are we doing?” Caitlin asked the technician warily.

  “That’s a neural spectroscope. It monitors your brain activity while we feed you images of decryption programs.”

  At Caitlin’s blank look, the technician continued, “The machine has the capability to adjust biofeedback to enable your brain to relearn skills that are suppressed in the frontal and temporal lobes, which regulate decision-making and technical information necessary to re-establish your tradecraft.”

  Hacking.

  “How about my short and long term memories?”

  The technician shook her head. “This won’t affect the recovery of that at all.”

  Caitlin sighed as she pulled herself out of her ruminations when the car zipped down a slope into the underground parking of the building that housed the NEST. Sam found a spot near the bank of elevators. It wasn’t a crowded garage. Caitlin wondered who were the other tenants of the building.

  They entered the elevator, swiping the ID that was handed to her on her first day at the facility. The number for the top floor immediately illuminated, and they were on their way.

  When the elevator doors slid open, Dr. Lester was already waiting for her at the reception area. Caitlin was unsettled with the attention being accorded to her. Was she really that special? Or was it because she was sitting on top of $100 million?

  *****

  “How’s your relationship with Travis going?”

  Caitlin guessed they had finally moved on from the topic of Jase. Fine with her. Five sessions devoted to talking about the man who had abandoned her on the side the road was definitely enough. Or not. It would take her some time to forgive Jase. Three years ago, when she awoke with no memory, she clung to him and immediately knew she could trust him. That she loved Jase in the way he told her. Knowing all that could be a lie was making it harder for her to trust another person again. Besides, she wasn’t as vulnerable now as she had been in the beginning of her amnesia.

  “Some days are easy,” Caitlin replied. “Other days, he seems impatient with me. He tries to hide it, but he can be an ass.”

  Dr. Lester nodded in understanding. “I’ve explained to Travis that he can’t rush this.”

  “You’ve talked to him about our sessions?” Caitlin asked, frowning. “Aren’t they confidential?”

  “They are,” Dr. Lester assured her. “What I’ve told him are merely answers to questions he has regarding your progress. I explained to him it’s not simple for you to simply pick up from where you two left off, and he should be prepared for the possibility that may not happe
n.”

  “When did you tell him this?”

  “The other day.”

  Caitlin groaned. “He’s been in a foul mood these past two days.”

  “What do you feel for him right now, Caitlin?”

  When he wasn’t being an ass? “I like him. A whole lot. He can be very sweet.”

  “How so?”

  “Both big and little things. Like when I was sleeping a lot—I know he’d look in on me because the curtains would be drawn or opened and I don’t remember doing that. I know I have a habit of kicking my blankets off, but they’re always snug around me.”

  Dr. Lester inclined her head and a ghost of a smile played on her lips.

  “And then when I’m awake,” Caitlin continued. “He always has food ready for me, making sure I’ve enough to eat. Then there are huge gestures like buying me a new car.” The Audi was a surprise; she wasn’t expecting anything fancy.

  “You said he can be an ass?”

  Caitlin huffed. “I guess I can’t blame him. He puts so much effort into trying to get to know me. But sometimes, I just need space to absorb all this, and he can be suffocating, and I tell him so. He gets pissed. He acts like a petulant child instead of an adult and disappears into his study as if . . . as if . . .”

  “He’s sulking?”

  “Yes!”

  The shrink smiled widely now. “Travis Blake is very much a man who likes getting his own way.”

  “I figured that out earlier on.”

  “He’s afraid to push you away.”

  “I don’t understand. If he’s acting like a jerk, wouldn’t that be pushing me away?”

  “Better than the alternative, which is forcing what he wants on you.”

  “I’d rather see the real him than be blindsided later. If he is not a sulky ass but an arrogant one, it’s best he knows now he can’t boss me around.”

  The doctor sighed, but Caitlin could tell she was disguising a chuckle. “Are you sexually attracted to him?”

  “He’s a very attractive man.”

  “That’s not an answer, Caitlin.”

  “Then, yeah . . .”

  “Enough to have sexual relations with him?”

  Oh, God, yes. “Maybe?”

  The doctor nodded and scribbled some notes on her clipboard. “That’s good. It’s important to acknowledge that you’re willing to move on from Jase.”

  “I told you—Jase and I had been living like roommates for the past three months.”

  “You won’t feel any guilt at all?”

  “Why are we talking about this? I haven’t even slept with Travis.”

  “But you think you will?”

  “It’s strange to put them side by side. My awareness of Travis is so different from my awareness of Jase.”

  “Explain.”

  “With Jase it was easy companionship. Like I’ve known him forever.”

  “And with Travis?”

  Caitlin considered this for a beat. “It’s electric. Sometimes there are flashes of familiarity. It jolts me like an emotion wanting to escape a visceral part of me.”

  “That’s excellent, Caitlin. Your mind may not remember. But something intrinsic in your consciousness is trying to connect with Travis. In amnesia patients, that happens when there’s a very strong bond already in place.”

  I’m not the one you love.

  Oh, Jase, what have you done? Caitlin thought as she remembered Jase’s parting words.

  There was a knock on the door. It was the receptionist.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Lester, but Admiral Porter is waiting in your office.”

  Dr. Lester didn’t look pleased. “Tell him we’ll be right out.”

  When the door closed, the shrink turned her attention back to Caitlin. Her expression was grave. “I told the Admiral it was too soon. You know why they’re subjecting you to this battery of tests and psyche evaluations?”

  “The hundred million the Russian mob is after,” Caitlin stated flatly. “Is there any chance that’s also the reason why Travis wants me to get better?”

  Dr. Lester looked at her sharply. “What does your gut tell you?”

  “He doesn’t care about the money.”

  Dr. Lester nodded. “It’s not healthy that you’re harboring a smidgen of doubt regarding your husband’s intentions. Trusting each other is very important and that’s our ultimate goal. Once you trust him, you can open your heart and learn to love him again. I want to discuss this at length with you at our next session. But right now, let’s get you to the Admiral.”

  *****

  Travis emptied the rounds of his gun into the dummy target in rapid fire. There was a large hole where the head of the FBI-Q-target paper used to be. He ejected the magazine and slotted in another one. He took a deep breath and resumed firing, punching in fourteen perfectly aimed bullets into the same target, eventually shredding it. The slide of the gun pulled back automatically when the chamber emptied, but it took a couple of clicks before Travis realized this.

  I’m losing it.

  He lowered his gun, pointing it down range, and leaned both hands on the shelf in front of him. Nothing like a firing range to release pent-up tension. This time it wasn’t helping.

  He needed sex.

  Caitlin with her multi-faceted hazel eyes, luscious tits, and gorgeous ass. She tested his control every day. But this morning was the closest he’d been to snapping. He found her dressed in a skimpy robe over what could be a skimpier nightie, bent in front of the refrigerator raiding its contents, and presenting him with a very tempting display of her curvy, tight ass. He was not made of stone, damn it. His cock responded readily. His hands wanted nothing more than to grip her hips and drag her against him and rub his erection all over her. Another part of him wanted to spin her around and lift her against the wall, wrap her legs around him, and ram his hard-as-nails dick deep inside her. In his fantasy, she wasn’t wearing underwear either, and she was slick and ready for him. He’d pound the shit out of her.

  Shit. That wasn’t helping. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. His goggles steamed up, and the odor of lead was suddenly suffocating. His erection was already straining against his trousers. He needed to leave the shooting range. He quickly put his gun, extra magazines, and cartridges into his tactical bag.

  He slid the strap on his shoulder and kept the body of the bag in front of his crotch as he willed the blood in his dick to flow north to his head. God knows he needed some circulation around his brain to think coherently again.

  When he left the firing-range, he was surprised to see Nate waiting nonchalantly for him, leaning against a wall with his arms folded in front of his chest.

  “What are you doing here?” Travis removed his ear protection and goggles. “Weren’t you due back tomorrow?”

  “I was. But Emily called me last night. Said if I don’t return soon, she won’t be held liable for employer homicide.”

  Travis scowled. “I wasn’t that bad.”

  “Uh . . . huh,” Nate eyed him skeptically. “There’s a reason you’re doing rapid-fire shooting and killing your target boards?”

  Travis grunted in irritation and marched toward the exit of the shooting facility.

  “You’re my ride,” Nate said, falling in step with him.

  “What? Why? Where’s your car?”

  “Shephard dropped me off,” Nate said. “Wanted me to sort you out first before you head back to the office.”

  “All of you just need to back off,” Travis grumbled as he bleeped the locks of the Escalade.

  Nate got into the passenger side, but didn’t say anything for a while. Travis, however, could feel the concern coming from his friend. Nate had seen him at his worst. The early days after Sarah’s death, Travis had mostly been angry and prone to uncontrollable violence. Nate had been the one to bail him out of jail and told him he could kiss any future in the private security sector goodbye if he couldn’t control his temper. At that time, Travis didn’t care. Sarah�
�s death had dashed any hopes he had of a future. Getting back with the SEALs had helped, for he redirected his anger and grief toward taking out terrorists with cold precision.

  “I’m not even going to ask if it’s Caitlin,” Nate finally said. “Em said she seems to be adjusting, so I don’t get your shit mood.”

  Travis gave a mirthless laugh. “Oh, she’s adjusting. She gets along fine with Emily and everyone else. But around me, she’s still skittish. The other day, she fucking told me to give her some space.”

  “Are you smothering her?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Travis snapped. “First the damned shrink. Then Emily. And now, you, too? What the fuck, man?”

  Nate sighed, which irritated Travis more.

  “I’m just saying, Trav. You’re a stranger to Caitlin,” Nate said.

  “She had been a one-night stand,” Travis whispered. “That was one night that changed my life. We fell in love overnight, became inseparable. I don’t know why she’s fighting it this time around.”

  “They say some brain injuries can bring about personality changes,” Nate said. “Hers was serious enough to cause permanent amnesia. You also have to consider everything that has happened. John Cooper or Jase Locke lied to her for three years.”

  Travis took a sharp left turn that threw Nate against the door. His friend shot him a fulminating look, but didn’t say anything.

  “Caitlin’s troubled that she may have left with Locke willingly.” Travis gritted his teeth.

  “You believe that?”

  “Hell, no,” Travis muttered. He guided the Escalade into an underground parking garage. Zipping into his reserved space, he killed the engine and got out of the car. He slammed the door close and walked a couple of steps to the front of the car and leaned back on the hood, staring at his feet. Nate came up beside him.