It's Always Been You

by Paige, Victoria

  “I don’t understand. Why is he trying to drive us apart?”

  “I told him I wanted to marry you. He thought I needed all the facts.”

  Caitlin had a love-hate relationship with Porter, and right now, it was fully on the hate side. “Are you telling me Jase is still a problem between us? I thought we’d gotten past this, Travis. Look, I probably should have told you sooner, but Jase and I were behaving more like roommates three months before Berlin. He’d been planning to leave me for some time.”

  Travis completely stilled. A play of emotions crossed his face. Suddenly, his features hardened, and he continued packing. “Those pictures were from before we were married.”

  “Wait, you told me that I told you, Jase and I were just friends.”

  “That’s correct. Obviously, you lied.”

  “Oh, no . . . no . . . no . . .” Caitlin said furiously. Walking those few steps to squarely plant herself into Travis’s space, she stood on tiptoes and snarled at him, “You don’t get to accuse me of things I don’t remember. That’s a low blow, and you know it.”

  “Convenient, don’t you think?” Travis sneered. “All you have to say is you don’t remember, and poof, all your sins are gone. Forgotten.”

  “It’s not a convenience!” Caitlin yelled. “Do you know how horrifying it is that the sum of my memories is three years of my life?”

  Travis’s jaw worked convulsively as he continued to shove things into his overnight bag.

  “So what? Now you’re moving out?” Caitlin said. “Let me do us all a favor. Why don’t I move out?” She stalked into the closet and pulled out her backpack. She should just leave with what she came in with.

  “You’re not moving the fuck out!” Travis growled. He yanked the backpack from her and threw it back into the closet. “I’m not moving out. I just need to make a quick trip.”

  “To where?”

  “Caitlin—”

  “To where, Travis?”

  He stared at a spot on the floor as he spoke. “Virginia Beach. The man who took those pictures.”

  “Have you ever heard about Photoshop, Travis?”

  “I had them tested by a forensic lab this morning. They haven’t been tampered with.” His voice sounded defeated and when he looked up at her, so were his eyes.

  “Why do you have to see him?”

  “Porter said he had more—”

  “I’m going to kick Porter in his balls when I see him,” Caitlin muttered. “Wait. Why do you have to see more?”

  “I have to know, Cat.” His voice was hoarse.

  Her heart squeezed tight. It was for the agony in his voice, the desolation. But also because what they’d shared this past few weeks wasn’t enough. She realized that now. She dreaded what he had to know. She asked anyway, “What more do you have to know?”

  “If you cheated on me while we were married.”

  Just like that, all the oxygen seemed to have been sucked out of the room, and her heart shattered into a million pieces. A wounded cry echoed in the room. It was hers. Her face must have crumpled in despair for panic flashed across Travis’s face as he moved to her and tried to gather her in his arms.

  Fury and extreme hurt made her reject him.

  “Don’t you dare touch me!” Caitlin screamed at him. “Don’t you dare!”

  “Babe, I’ll love you no matter what,” Travis said raggedly. “I just need closure. I find out, I’ll deal with it. Then move forward. I promise.”

  Caitlin emitted a short scornful laugh. “Don’t you see, Trav? There’s no moving forward. You’ll never get over Jase Locke. He’ll always come between us. I was just too stupid to see that.”

  “That’s not true,” Travis stated resolutely. “I love you too much. Just give me this.”

  “Travis, if I did cheat on you while we were married, are you really saying that you can get over it? Trust the person I am now, Travis. I will never do that to you.”

  “You never told me you worked for the CIA either. We were married for two years, Cat. When did you think you were going to tell me?”

  “I don’t know.” They said an injury to the brain like hers could change one’s personality. Was she a cheating, lying bitch before? Oh, God.

  “I hate you,” Caitlin whispered.

  “Cat, babe. No.” Travis’s voice sounded so broken. He took another step toward her, the sheer anguish on his face almost causing her to regret her words. Almost.

  “I hate you for making me fall in love with you, for making me trust you. Then you turn around and break my heart and make me doubt the person I had been before all this. So, yes, before I could even say I love you,” she drew in a ragged breath. “I hate you, Travis. I wish you never found me. I wish I remained dead to you. Because this hurt I’m feeling right now? It’s not worth it. You made me hope and have dreams, only to yank it from under me and slap me for my sins in a past that I don’t even remember.”

  Travis finally got a hold of her shoulders, gripping her tightly, he shook her. “You’re not listening, babe. I don’t care. I just need to know. Then we move forward. I’m in love with you. That will never change.”

  “You can’t say that,” Caitlin said tonelessly. “Betrayal of a marriage is hard to get over. I know I won’t. The trust will never be the same.”

  “It will, babe,” Travis said gently. “We’ll make it so.”

  Caitlin crossed her arms and twisted to get out of his grip. “You’re flying to Virginia Beach?”

  “Yes.”

  “You get on that plane, Travis. We’re done.”

  “Cat.”

  “I’m gone.”

  “Not letting you leave,” he growled.

  “I’m not talking about physically, Travis.” Caitlin felt dead inside. “In my heart. I’ll be done and gone. I’m not letting you back in.”

  She walked out and slowly closed the door behind her.

  And only then did she allow the tears to fall.

  *****

  In my heart. I’ll be done and gone.

  Caitlin’s words haunted every stretch and every mile of road that brought him closer to Reagan Airport.

  Was he doing the right thing? Did he really need to see this guy? To know if Caitlin/Sarah cheated on him while they were married. He would make it up to her. He could win her back again. He didn’t care if it took him an eternity to make her fall in love with him.

  He just had to know.

  Right?

  Travis stewed for a couple of more miles until he saw the signs for the airport. He’d been confident enough that he could manage the relationship, that he had enough love for both of them. However, the tone in her voice haunted him. The light in her eyes died when she looked at him one last time and left the room.

  I hate you for making me fall in love with you, for making me trust you.

  She loved him.

  You get on that plane, Travis. We’re done.

  Why did he have to know?

  What good would it do?

  He was such a fucking idiot.

  There was no point in dredging up a past she couldn’t even remember, that she couldn’t defend against. The only thing going to Virginia Beach would accomplish was to torture himself. But the end result was the same. He loved her. He was so far gone in love with her that Jase Locke didn’t factor in except to hurt his pride. And Travis knew that with Caitlin, he didn’t give a fuck about his pride.

  He shook his head and laughed at his stupidity. Porter could screw himself with his “know all the facts” bullshit. Travis knew what was in his heart, and with sudden clarity he even felt more idiotic. Sarah never cheated on him. All he had to remember was how she had looked at him; the same way Caitlin was finally looking at him in a way he had craved—before he fucked up big time.

  He checked his side and rearview mirrors and quickly changed lanes so he could take the next exit. She was pissed at him and needed to calm down. Besides, he needed time to find the right words to say to her and plan an
epic grovel.

  Travis decided to head to the BSI offices. He pulled into his designated spot and noticed a car pull up next to him. It wasn’t the vehicle he was used to seeing parked beside his in the reserved spaces. In fact, it was a car he thought had been tailing him earlier, but he’d been too caught up in his emotional turmoil to be alarmed.

  Shit. He recognized the driver.

  It was Porter’s man Crowe. Before Travis could react, he heard the plinking of glass and a sharp object pierced the side of his neck.

  Fuck, tranq dart. He yanked it off, but it had already done its job. He was fading and slumped on the steering wheel, blasting its horn. Glass shattered and he was pulled back into his seat. He heard Crowe talking to him, but it sounded like words spoken in a vacuum. Finally, darkness claimed him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Caitlin glared at Sam. He wouldn’t let her leave.

  “Travis and I are over, Sam. You don’t have to protect me anymore.”

  “Those were not my instructions, Caitlin,” Sam said firmly. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the door. “I was specifically told not to let you step one foot out of the house. You can call Nate and verify my orders if you want.”

  He held out his phone. She ignored him and headed back to the stairs. After crying her eyes out in her old room, she marched back to the master bedroom and grabbed her backpack, stuffing some of her old clothes into it. She was determined to leave everything that reminded her of her life with Travis. She could make it on her own. She had some American dollars that could get her by for a few months. She’d jump on a Greyhound bus and head west. Except she was leaving her heart behind. An overwhelming pressure squeezed the hollow muscle, gripping her chest in a painful vise. She had fallen in love with Travis Blake. It was a beautiful feeling until it wasn’t. She could almost taste the bitterness that consumed her.

  Her own phone buzzed. By God, if it was Travis calling before he boarded the plane, she was going to hurl her phone against the wall.

  She stared at the number; it was unknown. Intuition compelled her to answer.

  “Caitlin?”

  Porter.

  “You fucking asshole.”

  “You’ve always had a mouth on you. Go to a room where no one can hear you.”

  Caitlin had no idea why she complied. Something in Porter’s voice brooked no argument. She went to their bedroom.

  “What do you want?” Caitlin asked.

  “What else? The coordinates.”

  “Travis just told me I had three weeks to think this over.”

  “Did he also tell you that I was doing this for world peace?” There was mock amusement in his tone.

  “You lied to him!”

  “What? About the pictures? No. Those weren’t a lie. I just didn’t tell him the whole truth.”

  “What?”

  “Those were taken when you and Cooper were doing undercover work.”

  “And the man he’s visiting in Virginia Beach?”

  Porter sighed. “That’s a wild-goose chase. We just wanted him out of the picture and to be out of reach for a while. But we had contingency plans in case he changed his mind. Worked out better, actually.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A text message pinged. Caitlin opened it and gasped. Travis was bound and gagged in a trunk of a car. He also looked unconscious.

  “You bastard! If you hurt him—” Caitlin cried. “No, you won’t hurt him. You’re just bluffing.”

  Porter sighed again. “My dear, I’m willing to unleash seven tons of weaponized plutonium to the highest bidder. You think I’d even blink about sending his fingers to you a piece at a time? If it’s any consolation, Travis changed his mind. He didn’t go to the airport and was at the BSI parking garage when my man got the jump on him.”

  Caitlin felt bile rise in her throat. Why was everything going so wrong? Her words, when they came out, were a garbled whisper, “Take me.”

  “Oh, we will. We just need to get rid of your guard dog.”

  “Please don’t hurt Sam.”

  “You’ll have to make sure he’s not a problem when we come get you.”

  “How much time do I have?”

  “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  Damn Porter. How could she figure out how to take Sam down in thirty minutes? What could she use? A rolling pin? A vase? She stared at Sam’s head. That looked like a very hard head. She seemed to be the bane of his existence. Aside from a dislocated shoulder, she was contemplating giving him a bad headache as well. She cringed as she remembered how she had raged like an idealistic bitch thinking that she was above the dirty games of the CIA. She was such a hypocrite. The price of her compliance was Travis. She now understood the delicate balance her husband was trying to maintain. It was all for her, and she couldn’t do this one thing to ease the way for him. If she’d just given Porter the coordinates, her man wouldn’t be in this predicament. And Porter had to send Travis in an emotional tailspin with the pictures, which turned out to be a manipulation yet again.

  “Look, I know you and Travis had a fight,” Sam said gently. They were sitting around the bar area at the kitchen. She decided to pour herself a shot of tequila for liquid fortification and to numb some of her guilt. Because even if she’d made up her mind to follow Porter’s wishes, her conscience wouldn’t shut up that she had been right to withhold the coordinates. “But that man is crazy about you,” Sam continued. “Whatever he had to do was important to him.”

  “Yes. But it was destructive to us,” Caitlin said. “I don’t know why he didn’t just leave well enough alone.” She looked at the clock. She didn’t have much time.

  “Sam, how do you feel about me?”

  Her bodyguard’s face turned wary. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been a pain in the ass. And I hate that you got hurt protecting me.”

  “It’s my job, Caitlin.”

  “So, you’ll forgive me anything?”

  “If you try to sneak out, I’ll be really, really pissed at you.”

  The doorbell sounded.

  “That must be Nate,” Caitlin said as she got off the bar stool to answer the door. Maybe she could just make a run for it. Sam yanked her behind him as he moved to the door.

  “Nate has a key. He wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell.” Sam’s voice turned edgy.

  Shit. Think quickly, Caitlin. She grabbed the heavy vase.

  She raised the object on her unsuspecting target.

  “Sorry, Sam,” she whispered.

  Her arms came down forcefully.

  “C-C-aitlin . . . what . . .” Sam croaked. He was down but not out. He was sprawled in front of her, looking at her with pained, shocked eyes.

  Shit. He did have a hard head.

  The doorbell rang again.

  If Sam was conscious, they might not leave him alive.

  Feeling wretched, she grabbed a heavier vase.

  “Caitlin, don’t! Whatever they’re making you do—” Sam struggled to all fours.

  “I need to do this.” She swung the vase this time, striking his temple with blunt force and knocked him out cold.

  Thank God!

  She threw open the door. Porter stood there with his man.

  The admiral looked behind her.

  “Nice job, Caitlin.”

  “Go to hell!”

  *****

  He was in the trunk of a fucking car. Judging from the sporadic stop and go, they were probably off the interstate. Who in the fucking world would nab him and why? He was set up. Despite the pressing heat in the trunk, a sense of foreboding chilled his skin.

  Caitlin.

  They were going after her. That was why they wanted him out of the picture. Fucking Porter. That two-faced son-of-bitch had fucked with his head for the last time. He played on his weakness—Caitlin—and his one insecurity—Caitlin’s relationship with John Cooper. Travis was not like a son to him. He was a pawn and he was done being manipulated b
y the admiral.

  The car was slowing down and seemed to be turning into a driveway. Two car doors slammed. The stupid fucks didn’t tie his legs. They probably didn’t want to carry him. That laziness was going to cost them. They also used a single zip tie on his wrists. He and his Navy SEAL buddies used to play games breaking out of this type of restraint.

  He pretended to be unconscious when the goons opened the trunk.

  “He’s still out. Fuck, wake him up, man. He’s a big motherfucker; don’t want to be hauling him up those steps. Damned near broke my back earlier.”

  Yep. Lazy fucks.

  They tapped him none too gently on the cheeks. Travis feigned a groan.

  “He’s coming around.”

  “Let’s hustle, don’t want the neighbors to see him.”

  Travis was hauled out, his toes striking the concrete steps as he was dragged up the stairs. He heard a jingle of keys as a door was opened, and he was led into a house and dumped into a chair.

  “Let’s call Belov and see what he wants to do with this guy.”

  Interesting. Who is Belov?

  They were about to wrap a rope around him when he head butted the first goon in front of him. He jumped up and kicked the chair into the second goon behind him. He quickly leapt over his bound hands to bring them to the front. The first goon had recovered and came at him. Travis spun and whipped his leg in a wide arc. His foot struck the side of the man’s head, the power of the momentum knocking his adversary unconscious. Travis used his teeth to tighten the restraint as far as it could go, then he raised his hands over his head, and with force, brought his arms down and wide, snapping the plastic ties. By this time, the second goon had recovered and raised his gun. Travis went flying low into him just as he fired and both of them crashed into a table. The gun flew out of the man’s hand.

  Travis gripped him by his shirt and yelled, “Who sent you?”

  “Don’t know!”

  Travis smashed his fist against the assailant’s jaw.

  “Fuck,” the man screamed. “Some guy named Belov.”

  Wait. It was Crowe who he saw.

  “Was it the guy who shot me?”