“Fuck, man,” Nate whispered.
“Sir, I hope I did the right thing.” Sam looked at Travis. “I tried not to hurt her.”
“Hell, that’s probably how she managed to throw you,” Nate said.
Travis must have worn the scowl from hell because both men were looking at him warily.
“You did the right thing,” Travis gritted through his teeth. It wasn’t Harper’s fault. Still, he wasn’t thrilled about anyone laying a hand on his wife. “And I’m grateful for your quick thinking for remembering to use the anti-serum. The sooner we get BSK’s effect out of her system, the fewer variables we’ll have to contend with in the future.”
“I don’t understand,” Sam asked. “What exactly are we dealing with? Who could have done this to her? Is that what’s going on in the NEST?” Sam’s eyes were censuring as he stared at Travis.
“Shut it down, Harper,” Travis said icily. “I would never hurt my wife.” He was carrying enough guilt; he didn’t need someone else thinking that he had consciously put Caitlin in danger.
Sam averted his eyes, but his jaw was clenched.
Travis’s phone buzzed. Porter.
“Admiral.”
“The DNA markers indicate the Berserker serum has been flushed from her system,” Porter said.
Travis exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank, God. Do you have any idea how Komarov’s men knew Caitlin’s schedule and location?”
“One of our technicians didn’t show up for work and has disappeared. We’re suspecting she’s the mole.”
“Fuck. You think she’s the one who tipped Komarov off?”
“Very likely.”
“How about Komarov’s men under MPD custody?”
Silence.
“Admiral?”
“The men are dead.”
“What?” A sense of foreboding gripped Travis. They better not charge Caitlin for manslaughter. It was fucking self-defense. He swallowed hard before asking, “How?”
“Cyanide capsules.”
“What the fuck? Weren’t they searched? Handcuffed?”
“The ball was dropped somewhere, Blake.”
“You fucking bet it was. So we have nothing?”
“Are you alone?”
Travis didn’t care for the admiral’s tone. “Hold on.” He nodded to Nate and Sam to watch over Caitlin and walked into his study.
“What’s going on, Sir?”
“Komarov wants a deal.”
Travis cursed. “Tell me you weren’t in contact with that asshole this entire time.” Another thought crashed into his head. “So help me, God, if you had anything to do—”
“Calm down, Blake—”
“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down, Porter!” Travis roared into his phone, dropping all proprieties. “My wife got hurt! They fucking tried to kidnap her! How the fuck did they know to take her the day after she decrypted the files? Who else knew?”
“The technician had access to some files at the NEST.”
“Tight ship you run over there, Admiral.”
“If you’re done hurling accusations at me, Lieutenant, maybe you’d like to hear what I have to say to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
He realized he was shaking with anger. Travis inhaled a deep calming breath.
“I’m listening.”
*****
Alexandr Komarov eyed his sister Olga from across his wide oak table. He didn’t have to explain his actions. He was the Pakhan—the leader of their Bratva. Not even his sister could question his decisions.
“It’s final, Olga. Caitlin Kincaid will not be touched. I’ve given the admiral my word.”
“She murdered my son, Alexandr. You got your revenge against John Cooper, why can’t I?”
“Because she holds a key to a hundred million dollars. That’s why.”
“You promised me the blood of Caitlin Kincaid.”
“That’s enough!”
“No!” Olga shouted. His sister was crying. He hated tears.
“It was your dealings with the CIA that got us into this mess in the first place.”
Alexandr cursed loudly and stood up from behind his desk. His sister backed away. Good. She knew he was ruthless and would only tolerate so much from her.
“Don’t ever question how I run the Bratva, dear sister. It was your husband who led this last mission and failed to acquire Ms. Kincaid and in the process, I lost one of my specter agents.”
“Pavlo said she had a bodyguard.”
“It was my understanding he was just one person. There were four of them. Admit it, Olga, there’s no other choice. If I don’t make the deal now, Travis Blake or the CIA will keep her out of sight forever and we end up losing everything.”
“And all they want in exchange for the money is to leave Kincaid alone? When did you become so trusting, Alexandr?”
“Porter has a month to get me my money. I will keep Pavlo stateside for the duration. Ms. Kincaid fails in that time frame, all bets are off and she is a fair target again. But before that time, I’m asking you to stand down, Olga. I know Pavlo is your lapdog. Do not think to have him defy me because I will have no problem having your husband killed. Understand?”
His sister nodded jerkily. She reluctantly backed away, turned, and left his study. He did not trust the look in her eyes. That bitch better not screw up his plans.
Porter had been reluctant to negotiate with him after Alexandr had reached out to the admiral. Komarov had informants throughout the agency, and his spy inside the NEST was able to provide him with an update on Caitlin Kincaid’s progress. Komarov had a copy of the files—all he needed was Ms. Kincaid to decrypt them for him. His informant warned him it was too early. She was not yet ready, but judging from her neural spectrometer results, she was close. And then the admiral showed up, and Komarov feared the CIA would sequester her into a more secure facility. He had to use one of his aces for negotiating with Porter. Komarov gave up the name of one of their double agents that was hindering the CIA’s efforts against the Zorin Bratva. Since Grigori Zorin’s organization was a rival, he was more than willing to help the admiral. Porter had refused a cent from the hundred million. Too many agents had died because of that blood money, the admiral reasoned.
Other details came to light that had influenced Komarov’s change of heart. He was not a romantic. But learning that Caitlin Kincaid had been taken from Travis Blake by John Cooper melted some of the ice in his frozen heart. He too had lost his wife in the endless vendetta between rival mobs. In some strange and disturbing twist of his conscience, he wanted them to have what he had failed to have—a love ever after . . . but only if he got his money back.
*****
Caitlin’s eyes popped open. The shades to her room were drawn, but she could tell it was morning by the sliver of light escaping the edge of the window treatment. It had been three days since her attack. Her recovery was different this time. She hadn’t needed as much sleep, but her appetite doubled.
A heavy arm was slung over her waist and a hard body intertwined with hers.
Travis.
He started sleeping in her bed the day she came home from the hospital. She was too sleepy to argue with him that night when he carried her to bed. He climbed in beside her, ignoring her mumbled protests and gathered her into his arms. His masculine scent and comforting warmth wove a cocoon of security around her.
Her body relaxed just as his arm tightened across her belly. He knew she was awake.
He moved behind her, the mattress shifting on its box springs. She could tell he had propped himself up on an elbow. Fingers threaded through her hair to lift it away from her face, warm lips pressed a kiss to her jaw.
“Morning, babe,” Travis whispered. “You hungry?”
The growling in her stomach answered for her. Her skin flushed with embarrassment.
“I guess you are,” he chuckled. Planting another kiss on her cheek, Travis left the bed. “Come on downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll
get breakfast going.”
Caitlin moved to lie on her back and stared up at the ceiling, pondering the events of the past few days, beginning with that afternoon at the NEST’s underground garage where all she remembered was the short stocky man reaching for her. Next thing she knew, she was waking up in a hospital undergoing x-rays, followed by twenty-four hours of grogginess—almost as if she had been drugged, but Travis swore he had not given her any sedative, just pain meds. She stretched gingerly. Her joints didn’t hurt, but the big blotches of bluish green bruises on her torso and back hurt as bad as they looked. She stared at the abrasions on her knuckles. Those also stung. Travis had insisted on helping her maneuver in the shower, and when he saw the discoloration on her body, he had murder in his eyes. Caitlin could feel the guilt rolling off him in waves, and the self-recrimination in his eyes was more painful to witness than the pain from her injuries.
So now he was driving her crazy with his hovering. He hadn’t gone to the BSI office since the incident at the NEST. Sam had continued to provide security. If she was ever curious what it felt like to be shrink-wrapped and stored away, she wasn’t now.
Her stomach acids reminded her that she needed food. Sighing, she pushed up and walked to the bathroom.
After breakfast, Travis suggested they retire to the TV room. Sam was somewhere around the property doing a perimeter check.
“Can we go outside?” Caitlin asked. “I want to finish my coffee on the back patio.”
Travis hesitated before saying, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be outside.”
“It’s just the backyard, Travis,” Caitlin said. “Besides, you said Komarov was standing down.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
“I’m getting bored out of my mind!”
“Better bored than dead!” Travis snapped. Stalking to the kitchen, he dumped the dishes in the sink. He turned around, his face a mask of anger. “You whine about being bored. Do you even know how I felt when the police showed up and told me you were in the hospital? That you were attacked?” His anger turned into a haunted wildness. “I imagined the worse. And don’t even think for a fucking minute that I’m overreacting, Caitlin, because you were taken from me—”
“Travis—” How could she be so inconsiderate?
“—for three fucking years!” he roared.
“I know, I’m sorry, but I can’t change that,” Caitlin said quietly.
“You’re right. You can’t,” there was a cruel twist to his mouth as he continued; his tone now cold and calculating. “So—you—owe—me.”
“What?”
“You do exactly what I tell you. No questions. If I have to lock you in this house or in my room, I will.”
“I am not your prisoner,” Caitlin retorted. “I believe I’m your wife.”
Travis walked toward her, grasping her shoulders, he hauled her against him and ducked his head, their faces a hairbreadth away. “Yes. You’re my wife. You are mine. However you look at it, I’m responsible for you. Komarov making that deal with Porter tells me he’s tired of this game and all he’s after is his money. But until I’m a hundred percent certain, I’m not risking your safety.” His eyes finally softened. “Give me this, sunshine. Please. I can’t lose you again.”
“You won’t,” Caitlin whispered. “I’ll get Komarov his money.”
“I’ve made inquiries for a bank loan,” Travis stated matter-of-factly. “They’re considering my proposal.”
“Don’t,” Caitlin said, alarm stiffening her spine. “You’ve made something of yourself, Travis. Don’t put your business in jeopardy.”
Travis shook his head, a wistful smile crossed his lips as a hand came up to cup her face. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
She probably did, but it frightened her what he was willing to do for her when she wasn’t at the same level of commitment as he was. Yet.
“I’ll walk away from everything this instant as long as I have you,” Travis said, his voice had turned hoarse. He cleared his throat. “I love you, sunshine girl. So damned much.” His eyes searched her face. And there was a tinge of pain when he said, “I know it’s unfair to tell you this when I’m almost a stranger—”
“You’re not,” Caitlin said. “I won’t lie, it makes me uncomfortable sometimes. But I really shouldn’t be fighting my feelings for you.”
His brows drew together in an annoyed frown. “Why are you fighting it?”
She sighed deeply. “Because I’m stupidly stubborn.”
“Hey,” his fingers shifted from her cheek to chin, tilting her face up. “You’re not stupid.” His lips tipped up at one corner in a sexy half-grin. “But I do agree you’re stubborn.” He stared at her lips for a while and her breathing quickened. Seconds passed and they just stared at each other. Finally, Travis exhaled deeply. “Will you trust me to keep you safe?”
“You’re afraid I’m vulnerable now without the influence of the BSK serum, aren’t you?”
“Sorry, Cat. You are more a danger to yourself with BSK in your system.”
“We had talked about this scenario, Travis, and I agreed I wanted to be free from it. Don’t doubt that Sam did the right thing.”
Caitlin didn’t know why, but at that moment, she wanted to kiss him. She stood on tiptoe and touched her lips briefly to his. When she pulled back, Travis’s face had transformed into one of wonderment. How could she even resist the pull of those sapphire blue eyes that seemed to touch a visceral part of her existence? Mesmerized, she kissed him again. This time, a strangled groan escaped him as he crushed her fully into him, pushing his tongue into her mouth, which yielded without resistance. Caitlin surrendered to his touch. His tongue tangled with hers with an urgency she had not experienced before. His fingers dug desperately into her hair, keeping her head immobile to receive the demands of his lips. Her back hit the counter, and she yelped as the sharp edge struck one of her bruises. He wrenched himself away from her, stepping back.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, you . . . just . . . surprised me.”
He smiled ruefully. “I hurt you.” This was a statement. “I’m sorry.”
Caitlin grinned and reached for his hand, tugging him close. “I’m not made of glass.”
Travis rubbed his index finger repeatedly on his lips, like he was struggling to say something. “Ah . . . sunshine, we haven’t talked about the last time we almost had sex.”
Caitlin dropped his hand and looked away. She could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “What about it?”
“First of all, living with you is not a nightmare,” Travis said. “Far from it. Sharing a life with you is all I’ve ever dreamed about, Cat.”
“I twisted things out of proportion.”
“Look at me.” A gentle yet firm command.
Caitlin stared up at him. He lowered his head slightly. “You are never a nightmare. Living without you is. I’ve been in limbo, babe. You’ve brought the pulse back into my blood. Without you, it’s just this sludge of dead nothing.”
“Travis—”
“I’m going to make you my wife in every way, Cat.” His eyes grew heated. “We were interrupted by a . . . er technical difficulty. I’m about to rectify that.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Dr. Ryan is stopping by tomorrow morning,” Travis said.
“She was just here the other day.”
“It wasn’t appropriate at that time to ask her to put you on birth control when you weren’t aware—”
“You’re damn right it wasn’t,” Caitlin muttered, glaring at Travis.
He huffed an irritated breath. “That’s why I didn’t tell her to give you a birth control shot—”
“I was out of it. She needs my consent.” She stood on tiptoes for emphasis, her nose almost touching his. “Cognizant consent. Not a drug-induced one.”
“Damn it, that’s what I’m telling you—”
“Are you telling me I
was lying there, half unconscious, and all you could think about was sticking your cock inside me?” When the words left her mouth, she actually felt a twitch between her legs.
A ruddy color crept up Travis’s neck.
“Of course not.” His voice was an indignant growl. “I just want . . . to be prepared.”
“Quite the Boy Scout, aren’t you?”
“Caitlin—”
“I can’t believe you didn’t have condoms.”
“I didn’t need them. I told you why,” Travis replied stiffly.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around how a man as virile as Travis could stay celibate for so long. Actually, it was endearing.
“I have them now.”
“How? When did you even have time to get them? You were around me the entire time.”
“I have my ways.”
“Tell me you didn’t tell Sam to go buy them.”
“Of course not.”
“Nate?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, my God. Emily?”
“Caitlin, I told Dr. Ryan to bring me a box,” Travis said with amusement.
“Have you no shame?” Caitlin cried, mortified.
“Why? She’s my doctor.” He was suppressing a grin and it was infuriating her. “My sexual health is her concern, too.”
Caitlin harrumphed and pushed off from Travis’s chest. “What makes you think I’m letting you back into my pants? You’ve missed your chance, buddy.” There was a teasing challenge in her tone while she smirked at Travis.
She walked to the table and grabbed her coffee mug, but not before she saw the big grin on Travis’s face. As she made her way to the TV room, she heard him mutter, “Game on.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The television droned on with a movie on a cable channel. Since it was a Sunday, Travis sent Sam home after lunch. He was thankful he had hired a man who took his job seriously and didn’t seem to mind being on-call, protecting someone who’d been marked by the Russian mob. The house was surrounded by twelve-foot concrete walls, rigged with pressure-trigger wires on top. Sam made sure those sensors were working properly.
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