Nate stilled. “Who?”
“Crowe,” Travis bit off. “Porter was the one with the gun, but Caitlin was the one who messed up Crowe’s plans in taking her with him. He was fucked. If Caitlin died, he knew I would hate Porter forever.” Travis shifted on his feet and then continued, “I’m glad he’s not here. He straight out lied about the pictures, Nate. He led me to believe that Caitlin betrayed me. I can’t look at him and not think that he’d played with our lives, thinking he was God. That over two years of friendship was nothing to him except one big fucking agenda. And now Caitlin is paying the ultimate price.”
“Travis—” Nate squeezed his shoulder again, this time reminding him that Beatrice was just a couple of feet away. The redhead had grown pale and started fidgeting with her fingers.
“I’ve been going over this in my mind,” Travis said hoarsely. “What if she wakes up and doesn’t remember who I am?”
Shit. Nate didn’t think about that.
“I’d do it all over again, Nate,” he continued. “Make her fall in love with me. I don’t care if it takes weeks or months. As long as I have her. I’ll love her enough for both of us until she’ll learn to love me again.” His lips pressed into a bitter smile and he shook his head. “It kills me that we had a fight because of my stupidity. I hurt her. And then before I could make it right, this happened.”
Travis cocked his head sideways to look at Nate, shaking his head in regret. “What if she dies not knowing I realized I fucked up.”
“Don’t you dare lose hope, Trav,” Nate whispered fiercely. The fight was leaving his friend, judging by the slump in his shoulders.
“I can’t live without her.”
“You won’t live without her. She has survived before; she’ll survive this time.”
“She told me she loved me.” This time Travis’s lips lifted in a faint smile.
“I was there, buddy.”
“It’s always been her.”
“I know, Trav.”
Nate looked up to see every pair of eyes in the waiting room on them. Lillian had been crying on and off, and Beatrice’s eyes were puffy. Everyone knew if Travis lost Caitlin today, he would never recover. Ever.
An hour later, the OR doors finally swooshed open and a man in dark blue scrubs walked through.
“Caitlin Kincaid?”
*****
“You’re so beautiful, sunshine girl.”
“Keep that thing away from me.”
“Sex hair. You look thoroughly fucked.”
Laughter.
“I love you, Caitlin.”
Her eyes opened. Antiseptic. Hospital.
She didn’t feel a damn thing. And her limbs felt like rubber. Otherwise, everything was just cool.
“Cat—”
That low, raspy voice. She turned her head and stared straight into bloodshot, sapphire blue eyes.
“Travis,” she whispered back.
His eyes grew glassy. He bent his dark head and stared at his hand, which was joined with hers as though he was struggling to control an overwhelming emotion; then he looked back at her.
“You remember me,” he choked. Then taking a long drawn out breath, he repeated. “You remember me.” He kissed their entwined fingers and then bent over to press a gentle kiss on her lips.
She smiled in contentment. She was floating back into a haze again. Probably morphine-induced, but she didn’t care.
It would be a few days before she was cognizant about the comings and goings in her hospital room. Gunshot to the back by that dickwad Crowe. The last time she was laid up for so long in a hospital she had a broken arm and leg, plus amnesia. This time was markedly different.
Starting with the love of her life.
Travis walked in, freshly showered, and he had finally shaved. He’d had three days’ worth of stubble, which Caitlin thought was über sexy, so she lamented the fact it was gone. He was also no longer gaunt like that first day she woke up. That time, it hurt to look at him; so much pain reflected not only in his eyes but all over his face.
Today, a light danced in his eyes. He bent down to kiss her.
“What?” he asked, his lips quirked in a half-grin.
“You’re so handsome.”
“Caitlin, did you trick the nurse into giving you extra morphine?” her husband mocked.
“I did like your stubble. Why did you shave?”
“Getting too long, babe, it was itchy as hell.” He leaned a hip against the bed, his tone turning serious. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Starting to feel the sting on my back,” Caitlin said.
“They’ve been cutting down on your pain meds. How’s your appetite? Anything particular you want to eat for lunch? I think you’ve had enough of this hospital gruel. I can get you something light and tasty if you want.”
That was about the sum of their conversation for the past three days. Small talk. For one thing, she had been out of it for a while, but Caitlin felt they had skirted around the topic enough. She knew Travis wanted to talk about the one thing that felt unsettled between them, but was worried she couldn’t handle it, so she said, “Porter said you changed your mind about Virginia Beach.”
Travis was caught off guard. “Uh . . . yeah.” He looked at her, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t even make it to the airport. I was so stupid, Cat. Forgive me? I nearly ruined us.”
“The pictures. Jase and I were undercover.”
“I know. Porter clarified everything,” Travis said, his eyes darkening slightly. “I don’t know how he managed to make me listen to him while the paramedics worked on you. He probably knew I would never talk to him again.”
“A part of me hates him, especially for what he put you through,” Caitlin whispered. “Yet another part of me gets him.”
Travis scowled at her. “I’ll never trust him again.”
“Oh, Travis.” Caitlin could see how he was hurting. Travis had looked up to Porter for the longest time, only to discover that the man he idolized had clay feet.
“He also told me when we got married, you ceased working undercover with Jase in that capacity. You never cheated on me, Cat.”
“You didn’t know this when you left for the airport,” she said gently. “What made you change your mind?”
“I realized all this was pride.” He took her hands in his. “And it didn’t matter what happened before. You were right. It wasn’t fair to you. You can’t defend your actions in the past if you can’t remember.” He was shaking his head in remorse. “Then it hit me that if I’d only stopped and thought about it, you would never cheat on me. Just not in you, babe.” Travis’s face looked pained. “You getting hurt is my fault . . . I shouldn’t have left you—”
“I’m the one who got us in this mess—”
“Cat, no—”
“You got hurt too; all I could think about was Porter’s threat to torture you.”
“Ah . . . babe,” Travis whispered. “I’d walk through hell for you, as long as you’ll be waiting for me on the other side. I’ll go through anything for you. I’ll bear all your pain, sunshine. I wish I took that bullet for you. I don’t care if you drive me nuts trying to protect you.” Travis ran his fingers through her hair before cupping her face and tilting it up. “All I hope and pray is that you never leave me. Never, Cat.”
“I won’t.”
“I do stupid shit.”
“I know.”
“I’ve got a bad temper.”
“I know that, too. And you need to rein in that jealous streak of yours. I’ve been meaning to lay in on you about nearly strangling Nate.”
Travis scowled. “I squared that away with him.”
“Oh, is that why he’s so tentative when he hugs me?”
Her husband looked away.
“Travis?”
“What?”
“Shut it down.”
His jaw clenched stubbornly. “I can’t, Cat. That’s me.”
“You can’t barricade me from e
very male relative, friend, and acquaintance.”
“Watch me.”
“You don’t want to be known as the psycho husband, do you?”
Travis smirked.
Caitlin sighed. She would have to condition him slowly. A little voice inside her wished her luck.
“Caitlin?”
“Hmm?”
“There’s something else I need to know.”
Caitlin smiled. She was waiting for the right time to say it, but she kept putting it off. Amazing how when you were near death the feelings that mattered cut through all the crap.
“Did you mean it, Cat?” His voice was so uncertain, it broke her heart.
“I love you,” Caitlin whispered. And she watched in wonder as his entire face transformed. Every line, every worry, seemed to dissipate from his handsome face, leaving only the man she knew she had loved for a long time. She may not remember everything about him, but her heart always did. She accepted that now. “It’s always been you, Travis.” The last statement was said with a catch in her voice.
Half-groaning, half-growling, Travis kissed her deeply. He was struggling to be gentle, but his kiss was full of longing. He pulled away. “God, Caitlin, I never thought I’d be this fucking happy again.” Suddenly, he was slipping a huge diamond ring on her finger. “You can’t say no. You’ve sealed your fate, sunshine girl. Once you get back on your feet, you’re officially becoming Caitlin Blake. I love you. I fucking love you.”
He kissed her again and would have continued doing so if they weren’t interrupted by a knock on the door.
Beatrice stuck her head in the room. “Is it safe to come in?”
“Come on in, Bee.”
“It sounded so quiet in here,” Beatrice said. “Didn’t want to burn my eyes, just in case you two were up to something.”
Travis rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Bee, I’m not a fucking caveman.”
The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing. Caitlin grimaced as the shaking jarred her back.
“Damn it, fuck, are you all right?” Travis muttered. Caitlin opened her eyes and saw the panic in both Beatrice and Travis’s faces.
“It stung.” Caitlin coughed, and then took a deep breath. “It’s fading.”
“I should limit your visitors.” Travis glared at Beatrice who had the grace to look embarrassed.
The redhead recovered quickly. “Well, instead of bringing you another fruit basket or flower arrangement, I have a message to deliver.”
“If it’s from your dad, you can forget it,” Travis stepped in front of Beatrice. The scowl on her husband’s face was enough to put the fear in anyone, but the redhead was determined.
“He said it would clear up a lot of questions.”
“He’s made enough mess of things,” Travis snapped. “Caitlin nearly died, goddamnit,” he roared. “Because of him!”
“Travis!” Caitlin called out in a censuring tone. “Don’t take out your anger on Bee.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice sniffed and defiantly sidestepped him to hand Caitlin an envelope. She recognized the lettering script with her name Caitlin.
“Jase,” Caitlin whispered.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Travis’s hand grasped Beatrice arm. “Is this another one of Porter’s mind games?” He held out his hand to Caitlin. “Give that to me, Cat, I’ll burn it if I have to.”
Caitlin’s fingers held on to the letter. “I think I need to read it, Travis.”
“Why?” he growled. “We decided nothing else matters, remember? You told me if I got on that plane, you’re done. How is this any different?”
“But I told you today, I’ll never leave you.”
Shifting her gaze to Beatrice. “Did you read it?”
“No. But Dad did. He said it explained a lot of things, including that night you disappeared, Caitlin. He said it would be good for both of you.” Beatrice walked to the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Travis grunted.
“Travis?”
He turned to look at her.
“Can you go get lunch?”
He gazed at her for a beat, indecision written all over his face. Finally, he nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
*****
Travis folded the letter and sat back on the sofa that was facing the hospital bed. Caitlin handed him the letter telling him he could read it if he wanted to because she didn’t want to hide anything. He asked her how she knew Porter hadn’t forged it. She said one word—buttercup. A familiar sensation of jealousy ghosted over his skin. Damn it, Caitlin was right. He needed to get a grip.
He had also wondered how Porter ended up with the letter. Had he been in contact with John Cooper this entire time? It would take a while before Travis trusted the admiral again, but he realized he didn’t care any longer as long as Porter left them alone.
Whatever was in the letter made Caitlin sad in a good way, if that made sense. Bittersweet was the better word. A heaviness he hadn’t realized was in her, finally lifted. And in the ever-changing intensity of the way they kissed, it felt like she was totally, unequivocally his. And it felt fucking great.
So he got curious and read the letter. As much as he hated Jase Locke/John Cooper, he had to admit the son of a bitch was actually decent in the end. He stared at Caitlin who was sleeping peacefully, one arm bent at an angle by her head, the other on her belly. It was late at night. No more visitors. He stripped down to his boxer briefs and undershirt and got into bed with her. Cuddling was not possible, but he’d take any closeness right now. He shifted on his side and simply drank in the beautiful contours of her face. Somehow, this was another new beginning.
Jase’s letter to Caitlin
Dear Caitlin,
Damn. If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it, and I’ve finally decided to do the right thing. You’ve probably figured it out by now that I’ve lied to you for three years. For all my selfish reasons, the biggest one is because I love you. So damned much. Ever since we were kids, I’ve been in love with you. But you’ve always looked upon me as a friend and, annoyingly enough, like an older brother.
I hate his guts. I don’t know if you should know that, but I do. He has what I want. Your love. So I did the unthinkable. Maybe as revenge, or maybe to hurt him for having what I can never have.
You were helping me that night. You had no plans of leaving him. We got into an accident, you were badly hurt, and I decided to take care of you. The Russian mob knew where you lived because I’d led them straight to you. And then you lost your memory. I thought it was the perfect opportunity for us to start over. So I took you from him.
The CIA made it easy. I found out they were covering their asses because they were shutting us down and throwing us to the sharks. They faked our deaths. It was for the best that he believed you were dead.
I’m sorry, Caitlin. I tried to make you happy. But in losing your memory, that also meant we’d be hunted for the rest of our lives, especially if I was alive. Because I was the one who fucked up—in their eyes and mine. I thought we could disappear, but the Russian mob was just so fucking persistent. I guess they couldn’t turn their backs on 100 mil.
Three years. I’ve finally accepted that you’ll never look at me the way you looked at him. If I thought there was a chance that you would love me a fraction of how much you loved him, I was going to fucking try to make this work. I’d live with the guilt, as long as I’d have you loving me.
The most painful day in my life was when you told me you had found the ONE. I tried to talk you out of marrying him, but you were willing to risk everything. You were going to tell him the truth and screw the consequences, but all hell broke loose.
I treasured the times we shared. Even on the run, I was living a dream because you believed you belonged to me. In the end, I loved you too much and accepted that the ultimate sacrifice was in letting you go.
He has not moved on from you, Caitlin. He looks for you. I hope
my sacrifice will help him find you. I owe you this much. You both love the hell out of each other, and I’ve finally accepted that he’s the man most deserving of your love. I wish you the best, buttercup. Know that I loved you until the end, and I hope that one day you’ll forgive me for what I did.
Yours,
Jase
*****
Three weeks later
The rundown warehouse located east of Budapest was crawling with over sixty CIA paramilitary and black ops personnel. In the center of the building were four tactical military trucks carrying seven tons of weaponized plutonium between them. The nuclear material was sealed in lead containers. The warehouse was in a compound surrounded by chain-linked fences. Inside the compound were dozens of vehicles and trucks belonging to buyers interested in the cache of plutonium.
About thirty minutes before, after funds were transferred when the bidding ended, the warehouse was raided by a joint CIA-military group. The takedown was swift, if not a tad bloody.
Dmitry Yerzov stood in the shadows, watching men in commando gear lead away over fifteen targets of the plutonium sting operation. The buyers were from different countries—top among them, North Korea and Iran. Some of the people now in custody owned private defense companies, others worked undercover for their government—whether they were sanctioned by their leadership was another question. A few other buyers were from well-funded terrorist groups.
He watched his former boss, Grigori Zorin, get cuffed and spirited away by a waiting Black Hawk. As he watched the chopper leave the ground, he finally exhaled a breath of relief even as an emptiness filled him. Three years of his fucking life—he paid with his blood and soul. As far as Zorin knew, his top security man died defending him. Dmitry Yerzov was dead.
“Commander?”
Dmitry turned. A soldier walked up to him and handed him a package.
“I have some BDUs you can change into.”
Dmitry stared at the blood spatters on his shredded white dress shirt. He winced as he remembered the four shots he took to the chest. He did have state-of-the-art body armor that his boss had sent him, which he wore underneath his urbane clothes. Add in the blood capsules that worked as planned, and he had the ultimate orchestrated deception.
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