It's Always Been You

by Paige, Victoria

  “Or he may be involved in the specter agent program and was feeling guilty about you losing Caitlin,” Nate said. “But if you’re right, man, that’s a long con to pull. Talk about patience.”

  “Porter is a master strategist,” Travis said. “Which makes him a dangerous adversary.”

  “Are you going to confront him?” Nate asked.

  “Everything is circumstantial right now. He’s too cunning to leave hard evidence behind,” Travis said. “I can’t trust him until I know his fucking agenda.”

  “How do we play this?”

  “We’ll pretend we’re not suspecting a damn thing.”

  “Oh, boy,” Caitlin whispered.

  “Two can play his game.” A hard gleam entered Travis’s eyes.

  *****

  Travis drew the blanket over Caitlin and quietly left their bedroom. He descended the stairs and walked straight into his study. Nate, who was waiting for him, handed him a mug of coffee. Sam was up and about doing a perimeter check.

  It was 6:30 a.m. Caitlin managed to fall asleep during their discussions when Travis and Nate started rehashing some of their missions that might have been manipulations on Porter’s part. So far, none really incriminated the admiral. But Nate being in Germany when all the shit went down with John Cooper was too much of a coincidence. The admiral specifically requested a BSI security detail for Perot who was a CIA civilian asset. That gave Nate access to the CIA stations in Germany at that time. BSI did have limited access to the agency’s database, but it was expanded on a case-to-case basis.

  “I’ve got to hand it to Porter,” Travis said. “Even with Caitlin, he didn’t push. He’ll let you believe you were in control.”

  “We’re still operating on assumptions here,” Nate reminded him. “We think they have a tracker on Caitlin’s laptop. Are they recording her activities? Would they know if she had finally broken into the files they need?”

  “That’s why Porter is playing it so cool. They may not even bother Cat at all if she gives them what they want,” Travis said.

  “Can Caitlin figure it out by herself if they’ve installed some backdoor software on her laptop? Or should we call in a specialist?”

  “Calling in someone else outside the agency might trip some alarms and could put Caitlin at risk.”

  “I wonder what Porter would do if Caitlin returned the laptop?” Nate asked.

  Travis gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to think what Porter would do. But he said it anyway. “He’d probably take Caitlin by force, but let us think that some other group did it. Fucking misdirection is his game. I should just take Caitlin and disappear.”

  “And have her on the run again?” Nate challenged.

  Travis slammed the mug down on the table and glared at Nate. His friend winced, but held his eyes.

  “I am not John Cooper,” Travis bit off. “I’m not going to do a piss-poor job of disappearing.”

  “Do you think that’s the life Caitlin wants? Another assumed identity?”

  Travis turned around and faced the wall of books before him, but not really focusing on anything. “No. Caitlin wouldn’t want to be someone else again. I think she’s comfortable being who she is and learning more about herself. I saw how peaceful and happy she was when we were in Iron Ridge.” He faced Nate. “That’s the life I want for her. Free of people wanting to use her for their own schemes, or people wanting to kill her for things she doesn’t even remember.”

  “You’re giving Porter what he wants this time?” Nate asked.

  Conflicted emotions warred within him. “Yes. I have to remember he did help her during her time at the NEST. I think that gave Caitlin a purpose and returned some of her self-worth that had disappeared with her amnesia. She got her skills back. In some twisted way, we do owe him something.”

  “But what if he keeps on asking?”

  “A part of me thinks he won’t. He helped us with Komarov to get him off our backs. The unforeseen kink in that plan was Komarov’s sister. They appear to have eliminated that threat as well. So they’re clearing the path for Caitlin—”

  “Her ticket to freedom.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” Travis said as he sunk in his chair. He was so damned tired. “Part of me just refuses to acknowledge that a man I’ve depended on and trusted for over two years could play me this way. His daughter is my best friend, damn it.”

  “Our best friend,” Nate corrected. “Bee wasn’t that tight with her old man when we met her.”

  “I think they were working through some shit during that time. Imagine my surprise when she was the redhead my buddy Gabe hooked up with.”

  “You think the admiral had a hand in breaking them up?”

  Travis snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He may not show much affection to Bee, but I pity the man who’d finally get the balls to date her. Porter would probably intimidate the man with a rolling car meeting.”

  “Get in the car, punk. So you wanna date my daughter?” Nate said in his best rendition of Porter’s voice. “Whatever happened to him?”

  “Gabe?”

  “Yes.”

  “He quit the SEALs before I did. I thought he went private. I was so detached after Caitlin’s death; I didn’t give a shit about anyone,” Travis said with much regret. “Haven’t heard from him in three years.”

  “Well, he’s certainly not on the security circuit in DC. You think he went private in South Africa?”

  “Who knows?” Travis tipped back his head to finish his coffee. “I’m making you guys breakfast. After that, I want you to catch me up on what’s going on at BSI.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lockdown didn’t seem so bad. It looked like a house party every day.

  Travis was trying not to make her feel isolated and brought most of the BSI activities to the house. It was almost as if they had moved the entire office into their residence. The dining room table was cluttered with files and laptops. There was a buzz of activity and laughter in the past three days. Today wasn’t any different.

  Most of the men were out in offsite meetings and only Sam was in the house. Caitlin hadn’t messed with the files since the morning of their return from Iron Ridge. A rebellious streak in her wanted to poke at the bogey man who was lurking in her computer, waiting to see what would jump out. So she’d been using her laptop to search for interior design ideas. She even opened an account on a visual discovery website to organize her home decoration inspirations. And she couldn’t stop.

  Em looked up from her laptop. “I just love the latest picture you pinned on your Walls I Like board.”

  “Yes, that’s a Venetian plaster finish,” Caitlin said. “Very common in Italy. It’s made from marble dust.”

  Em had the glazed-over look.

  Huffing impatiently, Caitlin added, “I’ve checked the professionals offering this wall-finish and they’re really expensive.”

  “How expensive?”

  “At least twenty thousand to do the living room.”

  “Just use paint,” Sam interjected dryly. The new recruit leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “Why in the world would you spend so much on”— he looked around —“three and a half walls.” There was a wide expanse of windows fronting the southwest side of the house.

  “Travis can afford it,” Emily pointed out, but she was grinning cheekily.

  “Or I can just use the faux plaster from the home improvement store,” Caitlin said.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Sam added. “Why is it so expensive?”

  “You need several layers to achieve a good depth and texture. That makes it labor intensive.”

  The doorbell chimed.

  “Are we expecting anyone?” Sam asked. He cautiously walked to the door.

  “That’s Beatrice,” Caitlin said, returning her attention to her computer. “She’s bringing in some swatches for the furniture,” she said it matter-of-factly, but knew Sam had rolled his eyes. She stole a look at Emily, whos
e eyes were sparkling with mirth, but was obviously trying to keep a straight face.

  Poor Sam. He must think he was guarding a ninny instead of a woman who used to hack for the CIA.

  Beatrice swept through the door and shoved a couple of binders at Sam. “Thanks, Sam.” She stopped at the edge of the dining table, resting a hand on Emily’s chair. “Caitlin, you should just hire an interior decorator. I had to use all my charm so they’d let me take home those binders.”

  “They’re too expensive,” Caitlin muttered.

  “Says the girl who wants twenty thousand dollar walls,” Emily piped in.

  “What? Are you out of your mind?” Beatrice shrieked.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Sam murmured.

  Caitlin glared at Sam before spinning her laptop around so Beatrice could take a look at what she envisioned.

  “Oh, that’s marvelous. It . . . might be worth it,” Beatrice said on a sigh.

  “Travis can afford it,” Emily repeated.

  Sam shook his head and threw up his hands in resignation.

  Hours later, the women were sitting together on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, just staring at the living room.

  “It’ll kick ass with the plaster,” Beatrice murmured.

  “I’m thinking a taupey color,” Caitlin said dreamily.

  “Hmm . . . if you’re going to spend that money, don’t choose a boring color,” Emily said.

  “Taupe is not boring, it’s quite complex.” Caitlin flipped through her paint cards. “It could be a bit warmer. Add more yellow.”

  Emily shied away from the paint cards. “Uh-huh, I’m not saying yay or nay on this one, girl. All I’m seeing is twenty-thousand dollars.”

  “Aw, Em, you were excited earlier.” Caitlin flipped back the fan deck and laid it on the coffee table. She shifted on the sofa to face Travis’s assistant.

  “With that money, you’ll have someone who has the experience,” Beatrice said. “More than a security consultant, an executive assistant,” the redhead eyed Caitlin. “And a hacker.”

  The girls burst out laughing.

  Caitlin jumped up. “Okay, what are we doing for dinner tonight? Pizza?”

  Emily groaned, “We had that yesterday. And we ate the leftovers for lunch.”

  “Sam!” Caitlin hollered.

  Her bodyguard walked in from the TV room.

  “Do you know where Travis is?”

  “He just called. He left his last meeting for the day. He’s en route,” Sam said.

  Caitlin grabbed her phone and called her husband.

  “Hey, babe. Heard Beatrice is helping you choose wall colors.”

  “Do you mind if I change the walls?”

  “The color? No problem. Do what you need. But you know we can’t have contractors come in until this threat is over, right?”

  “Yes. I know. Can you pick up dinner?”

  “Sure. What do you want?”

  “I’m thinking Peruvian chicken. Is Nate coming over tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then get three whole chickens and six sides. Fried yucca and Mexican rice sound good. Oh, extra sauce.”

  “How was the rest of your day? Did you work on the files at all?”

  “No.”

  “Sunshine, we’ve talked about this. The sooner we give them what they want, the sooner this will be over.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Caitlin—”

  “I just hate that I don’t know what I’m working for. At least with Komarov, I had a goal. I knew it was money. I’m just getting a bad feeling about this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The only reason I would have locked the files so tight was because I didn’t want anyone breaking into them. I want to know who I’m doing this for.”

  Silence. And then a sigh. “Babe, we’ll talk about this when I get home, okay?”

  Caitlin ended the call. Her euphoria over decorating the house suddenly deflated. She knew she was surrounding herself with color and rainbows because what was in that file was dark and twisty.

  *****

  The aroma of charcoal-roasted chicken that filled his car should have driven him nuts with hunger, but right now, Travis’s thoughts were on Caitlin. There was something in her voice, a stubbornness that chilled his spine. She was supposed to let him handle things and do as she was told. They were navigating a precarious tightrope as it was.

  Nate was already at the house when he got there. He set up the food in the kitchen’s center island. They hadn’t been using the dining table. The effort of clearing the files and stowing the laptops away was too tedious and a waste of time. So everyone just gathered in the kitchen, grabbed a plate, and ate wherever they wanted in the house. Usually, folks stayed congregated in the kitchen. They’d stand up while eating, or they’d sit on one of the bar stools.

  Arms circled his waist as a softness pressed against his back.

  Caitlin.

  Travis turned in her arms and held her tightly against him. Lifting her up, he gave her a thorough kiss.

  “I missed you,” he muttered.

  “You just saw me this morning.”

  “I got used to having you constantly by my side when we were at Iron Ridge.”

  “If we’d stayed the intended two weeks, you’d be begging to come home.”

  “I doubt it.” Travis kissed her nose.

  “All right you lovebirds,” Nate nudged Travis aside. “If you’re not partaking of this feast—move.”

  “Jesus, Nate. You act like you’ve been starved for weeks,” Beatrice groused as she picked up a plate and shoved it against Nate’s stomach.

  “Depending on what kind of starvation you’re talking about.” Nate smirked.

  “Are you still with that blonde?”

  “No. She looked too much like Caitlin from behind. It got weird—Ow!”

  Beatrice had pinched Nate on the arm.

  “Fuck, man, I didn’t need to hear that,” Travis growled. He also didn’t like how chummy Nate was becoming with Caitlin. Although, given how Nate was with Beatrice, it was just his thing to have an easy relationship with women. Didn’t mean Travis liked it. And he intended to have a chat with his friend before he inadvertently punched him.

  “It’s only fair,” Nate shot back. “Since your woman’s the reason I’m not getting any nowadays. I’ve got an ash-blonde chick I’m scoping out though.”

  “How do you even know what ash-blonde is, Nate? You’re a guy.” Beatrice finished spooning food onto her plate and sat by the counter.

  “Huh, security remember? Description is our game,” Nate said.

  “Do you know what the color chartreuse is?” Caitlin asked.

  Nate glanced at Beatrice. “She’s making that up, right? Chartreuse is a liqueur not a color.”

  “It’s both.” Ed Shephard walked in with an arm around Emily.

  “How would you know, Ed?”

  “Man, you’ve been married as long as I have, you’d be familiar with every paint color in that fan deck.” He nodded to the stack of paint cards at the corner.

  The group continued to argue about paint color and terminology. Travis caught Caitlin’s hand and walked her to a corner.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  Caitlin’s brows furrowed. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You sounded agitated on the phone.”

  “Mood swings.”

  “You’re not pregnant are you?”

  “Hell no,” Caitlin said, horrified. “I think it’s just PMS.”

  “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

  “Travis–”

  “Okay, I won’t be pushy.” But the gleam in his eyes told her otherwise. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I wasn’t feeling bad to begin with. Just—”

  “Anxious?”

  “Yes. That’s a way to describe it.”

  “Come on. Maybe food will help,” Travis guided her to the
center island where Beatrice was once again giving Nate a hard time about his sex life.

  “What’s wrong with redheads?” Beatrice flashed Nate an annoyed look.

  “They’re too high maintenance,” Nate said as he stuffed a fried yucca in his mouth. “Look at you. Right, Travis?”

  “Not touching that one, buddy.” Travis grinned as he began making himself a plate.

  Beatrice glared at Travis. “Tell me. I can take it.”

  “I wouldn’t actually call you high-maintenance, Bee,” Travis said warily. “You’re just smarter than most men, not to mention your father is an admiral—”

  “That’s what I’m saying; she’s too much work,” Nate murmured. This time it was Caitlin who smacked Nate on the shoulder.

  “Bee is not high-maintenance,” Caitlin said firmly. “There’s no problem with men having to work for it.”

  Nate laughed and lowered his plate. He looped Caitlin around the neck with his arm and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Says the woman who has my friend tied in knots.”

  “Ew, Nate. Wipe your mouth!” Caitlin screeched, rubbing her cheek with the side of her hand. “That feels greasy.”

  Travis froze, and he probably would have let it go if Nate hadn’t pulled Caitlin close again. She jerked her head to the side, laughing, and Nate’s lips landed on Caitlin’s throat. Right on that pulse that Travis loved to kiss.

  It was Emily who realized the problem, for his face must have morphed into something scary. And as his assistant yelled “Nate”, Travis had already dropped his plate and pulled Caitlin from his friend’s clutches. Vision hazing with red, his fingers encircled Nate’s neck.

  “What the fuck, Blake?” Nate choked.

  Travis dropped his hand and leaned in. “Study. Now.”

  “Travis . . .” Caitlin tried to placate him, but he ignored her and strode to his office.

  “Would you mind explaining what that was all about?”

  “Think,” Travis snapped as he walked behind his desk. Better to put the table between them until he could calm the fuck down.

  “Because I kissed Caitlin?” Nate said incredulously. “Jesus, Travis, I mess around that way with Bee all the time and you always laughed.”