It's Always Been You

by Paige, Victoria

  Everyone at the table laughed. Nate kept Beatrice’s gaze as he popped the slice of beef in his mouth, ignoring the redhead’s disgust.

  “How’s yours, sunshine?” Travis asked.

  Caitlin sliced into her NY strip revealing a nice pink center. “Perfect. I think I’m in love with you.”

  Both of them froze at her words. Caitlin blushed and lowered her eyes. “I mean, anyone who could cook a steak so well—”

  “Babe,” Travis lowered his head and whispered into her ear, “You know how I feel. But I’d prefer to show you.”

  Caitlin’s breath hitched audibly. Turning her head, their lips almost touched.

  “You two need to get a room,” Nate announced, pointing the nose of his beer bottle at them before taking a swig.

  Travis looked at his friend. “Shut up, Reece.”

  The banter continued around the table. Travis couldn’t believe how content he was with his life right now.

  Little did he know that the peace wasn’t going to last.

  *****

  It was around 11:00 p.m. when they left the Blake residence. Caitlin was stuffed full of peach pie. Ed declared he made the pies, but Caitlin was certain it was Emily who baked them because she rolled her eyes when her husband boasted of his baking skills. She leaned back against the seat, stretching her legs out in a sigh as Travis guided the Escalade out of his parents’ neighborhood. It was a huge subdivision; each house was set on ten acres of land. Travis told her the development used to be one big farm.

  They turned onto Route 7. It was a good fifty minutes back to their house in McClean. Caitlin felt like she was about to fall asleep—too much sun, too much food, and a good amount of wine. She must have dozed off for a while, because she felt Travis nudging her awake. The car was still moving and the scenery had not changed much.

  “What?”

  “I think we’re being followed.” The grimness in Travis’s tone blasted the sleepiness out of her. Her chest tightened as she felt a sense of déjà vu, remembering the numerous times she and Jase had escaped assassins sent to kill them. Travis was keeping his eye on the road as well as checking the rear-view mirror.

  “You know how to handle a gun, babe?” Travis’s voice was distant, eerily calm, and devoid of emotion despite the endearment he added in the end.

  “Yes.”

  “There are two Sigs in the glove compartment. Make sure they’re loaded and ready to go.”

  Caitlin didn’t ask any questions. She just opened the glove box. Taking out the guns, she checked for fully-loaded magazines and racked the slides to load the first cartridge into the chamber. “Done.”

  Travis held out his hand. Caitlin handed him a 9mm and extra magazines. It was then that she twisted around and looked out the rear. There was a huge vehicle following them, possibly a full-sized SUV.

  She heard Travis curse violently as a beam of light flashed over them. An oncoming vehicle had turned its high beams on. A jarring force slammed into them accompanied by the sound of crunching metal. Airbags deployed. Their vehicle swerved violently to the right. Caitlin was sure her nails dug half-circles into the door and dashboard; her whole body bracing at the impact.

  A car had plowed into them!

  Shattered glass rained on her as their vehicle screeched to a halt, tilting precariously on the side of a ditch.

  “Fuck!” Travis yelled as he tried to untangle their car from the one that rammed into them. Their tire spun uselessly, the engine revolution straining with the effort.

  She must have groaned, because her airbags deflated and hands were suddenly on her, checking her body for injuries and unclipping her seat belt. Travis’s face was dimmed in the cab of the vehicle, but she could feel his warm breath on her.

  “Caitlin, you okay?” he asked urgently.

  “Y-Yes.”

  “Stay here,” he ordered. A car screeched to a halt behind them. Car doors slammed.

  “Travis . . . I can help.”

  “No, you stay here,” he whispered fiercely.

  Before she could reply, an assault rifle sprayed their car with bullets from the rear.

  Travis cursed again and kicked out the rest of their shattered windshield. Caitlin immediately heard several gunshots as Travis fired into the car that crashed into them. He dragged her out. “Hide between the two cars.”

  It was then that Caitlin saw the occupant of the car in front of them. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel. A single bullet hole through the windshield took him down. Travis also shot out the headlights of the car and plunged them into darkness.

  The light from the full moon was bright, and as Travis faced her, she found herself staring into the eyes of a stranger. The eyes of a killer. She had never seen this expression on his face before. Caitlin could only comprehend that this was the “zone” he disappeared to when he was on a mission. He looked frightening, stripped of emotion with only one intent in mind—eliminating the threat.

  Bullets battered their position, ricocheting off the cars and kicking up dirt.

  Travis returned fire as Caitlin took out her phone to call 911. After giving their location, she called Nate.

  “Caitlin?”

  “We got ambushed.”

  “Fuck, where are you guys?”

  “On Route 7, maybe . . . around thirty minutes from the Beltway.”

  “En route. I can track Travis’s phone.”

  Nate disconnected.

  Caitlin scrambled down the ditch.

  “Caitlin!” Travis shouted at her through the din of gunfire.

  Caitlin felt completely in control as she motioned for Travis to zip it, and pointed four fingers forward indicating for him to continue keeping their attackers occupied. She ignored the expletives that escaped his mouth as she kept to the shadows, moving closer to the sound of rapid fire.

  She spotted the man holding the assault rifle and promptly shot his leg from under him. The man howled in pain, his body dropping to the ground. His cohorts instinctively shifted their ire on her and raked her position with a fury of lead. Fortunately, the ditch was deep enough to provide sufficient cover. Divots of dirt were raining down on her when she heard a furious roar, several gunshots and then the smacking of flesh.

  What the hell?

  She peered above the line of the ditch and watched Travis go head-to-head with the remaining two assailants. There was another man on the ground groaning. She scrambled out of hiding, kicked the weapons of the fallen men out of their reach and aimed the Sig at them, warning them not to try anything. By this time, another man had fallen to his knees, his hands over his nose. Their remaining attacker was no match for Travis as he methodically took him down with a series of elbow strikes, finishing him off with a head butt.

  “You okay?” Travis was breathing hard, but his voice was still steady.

  Caitlin nodded. Her body was flooded with adrenalin and that was when she realized she hadn’t blacked out. She was definitely cured of the BSK serum. Travis must have had the same thought at the same time she did, because he nodded reverently, his expression transforming to a more familiar one.

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  They were going to be okay.

  *****

  Someone wants my wife dead. Someone’s still after her. The realization was like acid burning through his brain. His eyes were blurry with rage as he tried to ignore the ringing in his ears. Anger was not going to help at the moment.

  He had his arms around his woman, holding her tightly. He watched the police lead the man with the least injuries into their cruiser. He was the tallest one, and from the NEST footage, he was their leader—Pavlo Milekhin—husband of Komarov’s sister, Olga.

  He kissed the top of Caitlin’s head and told her to stay put. He headed toward their handcuffed assailant.

  “Sir, you need to back off.” A uniform intercepted Travis.

  Pavlo sneered at him. “We’ll get your wife some other day.”

  “Why?” Travis
snarled.

  “She killed my son.”

  What the fuck? Shocked. Travis could only stare.

  The Russian said no more as the police officer pushed his head down to guide him into the cruiser.

  “Mr. Blake,” a voice said behind him. It was the two asshole detectives.

  Travis had no patience to deal with them. “Detectives, I don’t believe Loudoun County is your jurisdiction.”

  “We’re sharing information with our counterparts,” Detective Smithers said smugly. “What we couldn’t figure out is how you were able to take down five perps on your own.”

  “He’s a former SEAL, Detective, what do you expect?” Nate had walked up to provide backup.

  “Impressive.” This from Moore. “But something tells us that Caitlin Kincaid is more than just a plain housewife—and she had a hand in taking down some of your attackers.”

  “She was in that CIA facility,” Smithers added.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Travis gritted his teeth. “I’m not answering any more questions. I will give my statement at the Loudoun County Police Department tomorrow morning. Now, if you both will excuse me, I’m taking my wife home.” Their Escalade was at the moment being towed, the axel probably shot, so Nate was their ride.

  “Your wife?” Moore’s tone caused Travis to tense. “Funny, I checked your records. You were never married to a Caitlin Kincaid, but to a Sarah Quinlan. Your wife died three years ago, Mr. Blake.”

  It was fortunate Nate was with him, or he would have punched the smirk off the detective’s face. With his friend standing between them, Travis raised a warning finger at Moore. “Don’t test me, Detective. Stay away from my wife. You try to contact her behind my back, I—will—bury—you.”

  Travis spun on his heel and walked back to where Caitlin was being checked out by an EMT.

  “Is she okay?” Travis asked, concerned. He didn’t think Caitlin had any injuries.

  “I told him I was fine,” Caitlin replied. “He insisted on checking me out.”

  Oh, he is checking her out all right. Travis glared at the EMT. “Are you done?”

  “Uh . . . yeah,” the other man replied sheepishly and scurried away.

  Nate grunted behind him.

  Travis turned on his friend. “What?”

  “Man, you’re like a caged tiger about to go on a rampage. You need to calm down.”

  “In case you didn’t get the memo, Reece, someone tried to kill my wife.”

  “You’re better than this, Travis,” Nate said quietly.

  Fuck. Nate was right. But with Caitlin’s life hanging in the balance, he was having a hard time getting a grip.

  His phone buzzed. Porter. He was the first person Travis had called after the police had arrived.

  “Admiral.”

  “Are you and Caitlin okay?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a deep indrawn breath. “I just spoke to Komarov. His sister has gone rogue.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently, before we made that deal, Komarov promised to turn over Caitlin to her. He reneged on his deal with his sister.”

  “Are you telling me Komarov had nothing to do with this attack?”

  “Correct.”

  “Fuck. Our only lead is Pavlo.”

  “Is he in custody right now?”

  “Yes, a cruiser took him away.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Porter said and disconnected.

  Travis rubbed the phone on his chin, deeply contemplative.

  “Everything all right?” Caitlin asked.

  “Not sure,” Travis replied. “I just don’t like how Komarov seems so accessible to Porter. And vice versa.”

  “After what happened tonight, I don’t blame you,” Nate said, frowning.

  Travis put his arm around Caitlin as the three of them made their way to Nate’s car.

  *****

  The police cruiser carrying Pavlo Milekhin exited the Beltway and rolled into the Cloverleaf district—a shady, rundown area near Washington DC. There were rows of dilapidated buildings, some of them abandoned and housing some of the homeless from the city. It was the type of area where bodies were disposed and Pavlo’s instincts were certain that he was about to get whacked. His brother-in-law probably figured out that Olga had defied him and to placate the CIA, Komarov had given the agency his blessing to do with Pavlo as they see fit. In this case, kill him and make an example of him, so Olga would stand down.

  That traitor. He didn’t deserve to be Pakhan. Selling out his own blood in exchange for money.

  The vehicle turned into an alley. Yes. This was to be his end. His regret went deep. He failed Olga. Granted it was in self-defense, but it was still Caitlin Kincaid’s bullet that killed their son. Their men attested to that fact. The blonde woman with John Cooper was responsible.

  The backdoor opened and a man in a leather jacket appeared.

  “End of the line, Pavlo.”

  “Just shoot me and get it over with,” Pavlo snapped.

  The man just laughed. “I’m not here to kill you, you idiot. I’m here to offer you a deal.”

  “What?”

  “You want Caitlin Kincaid dead?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Fine. You help us, we’ll give you what you want.”

  Pavlo didn’t trust the man, but he was curious.

  “How can I help you?”

  “Not here. Come with me.”

  He considered what he had to lose.

  Nothing.

  *****

  Travis seemed withdrawn when they entered the house. Caitlin could feel a tense energy rolling off his body, and he had not spoken a word since Nate dropped them off. He walked directly to the kitchen, presumably to grab a drink.

  Caitlin was too tired to figure out if Travis wanted her to stay with him. She needed to shower the grit off her anyway. Hunkering down in a ditch wasn’t a picnic. She stepped into their bedroom and groaned. She’d been meaning to move her toiletries in here, but she kept on forgetting. Travis was getting annoyed that she had to shower in her old bedroom all the time and had repeatedly told her to move her stuff. She’d do it this weekend.

  Her hair was a mess. There were some locks caked in mud. This would take some serious shampooing. At least she didn’t acquire any new bruises. After the dirt was washed off, she stayed under the shower spray a few minutes longer.

  Finally, she turned off the water and stepped out, inspecting her skin. There were superficial scratches that didn’t even need antiseptic. She shuddered at the close call. Five assailants. She was lucky she was married to a badass. Caitlin couldn’t possibly have gotten out of there alive on her own. She didn’t know what she became when she blacked out, but she didn’t think that would have mattered, not against an assault rifle and not when the enemies were bent on her death and nothing else. She tied the sash on her robe, walked out of the bedroom, and gasped. Travis was standing at the entrance. He must have showered as well for he had a towel hanging loosely around his hips.

  “You took too long.” His tone was gruff and low; his eyes blazed raw and hungry.

  Blood lust had morphed into real lust.

  “I was on my way back,” Caitlin said no more. Travis closed the distance between them; his hand shot out as he yanked her against him. One hand dug into her hair painfully.

  “I need you,” he said hoarsely. “I. Fucking. Need. You.”

  “You have me . . . Oh!” Caitlin yelped as her back was slammed against the wall. Frantic fingers pulled at the sash of her robe and it was quickly discarded from her body. Her body was a quivering mass of damp flesh before the eyes of a predator.

  Travis leaned in. “I can’t be gentle.” It was almost a snarl.

  Caitlin wrapped her arms around him and said, “It’s okay.”

  The words barely left her mouth when both his hands seized her ass, lifting her. The towel fell away from him and he was there filling her, stretching
her with every inch of him. She gasped at the burn inside her for she wasn’t ready, but Travis was out of control. His eyes held hers as he slid out and rammed back inside her; the force of it left no doubt that this was a claiming. The friction lessened as her own moisture started to coat his girth, but his strokes were powerful as he pounded inside her over and over. For long moments, the room echoed with his animalistic grunts and the pounding on the wall as he plowed into her without mercy.

  He suddenly spun them around as he walked toward the bed and Caitlin found herself belly and face first against the mattress; fingers yanked her hips up and he slammed back inside her. Guttural sounds came from behind her as he increased his pace, fucking the shit out of her. Caitlin sobbed as an exquisite sensation built between her legs, her fingers gripping the bed sheets as Travis’s forceful thrusting threatened to send her over the edge of the mattress. She was climbing, climbing until she was flipped around, and dragged back to the center of the bed. Her legs were shoved apart and his tongue was on her.

  It only took the brush of his tongue against her clit to spark her orgasm. She exploded and she cried out her release. And yet, he continued to eat her as if he’d never be sated. “Travis . . . please . . .” He growled as he fastened his lips on her pussy, sending another pulsating ache down her belly. Her fingers dragged restlessly into his hair.

  He gave her core one final lash of his tongue. He crawled up her body, hooking her legs under his arms, and stared down at her. “No one’s taking you from me.”

  “Oh, Travis, no one will.”

  “This body is mine.”

  Caitlin wasn’t sure what to answer to that.

  Feeling her hesitation, his eyes turned stormy as he plunged inside her once more. “No answer?”

  “Travis—”

  “You’re fucking mine, Caitlin. Say it.”

  He withdrew once and thrust. He pushed her thighs way up so he could also manacle her wrists. There was no escape; she was at her most vulnerable. Her body was open to him for the taking.

  “Say it!” he thundered.

  “Are you mine?” Caitlin whispered.

  Travis bent down to capture her lips. This kiss was the only part that was tender in this feral union. Pulling away, he whispered back, “Always.”