It's Always Been You (34 page)

Caitlin had been hooded the instant she got into the car with her captors, so she didn’t have any clue where they were. Not that she was familiar with the Northern Virginia or DC area. All she knew was it took more than half-an-hour to get to their destination as she checked the time on the laptop in front of her.

The house seemed very old. Most of the furniture was covered with blankets; the smell of mildew permeating the air. Dust and cobwebs decked the corners and the windows were covered with blackout paper. It was surprising there was electricity since the house was obviously not in use.

Pavlo Milekhin was anxiously pacing the room. Either he was nervous about the money, or he simply couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

Caitlin was torn whether to hurry up the decryption process or to delay it. If she hurried, the sooner they’d let Travis go, assuming Porter was sticking to his promise. If she slowed down, well, she was really only delaying her demise. A rebellious streak in her wanted to annoy her eventual tormentor.

“Stop fucking around, Kincaid.” Belov looked up briefly from his screens.

Damn, the man knew she was stalling.

“Give me a knife,” Milekhin sneered. “And I’ll force her to work faster.”

“Stand down, Milekhin,” Porter said. “You’re not helping matters by scaring her.”
 

“Too late,” Caitlin retorted. “You’re turning me over to him like a sacrificial lamb. Of course, I’m freaked out. You want me to work faster, send him to another room.” Her fingers stopped typing on the keyboard. “I can’t concentrate having him just a couple of steps away from me, knowing he’s just waiting to kill me. Haven’t you guys gone through basic psychology classes?”

Porter had the gall to chuckle. Wait. Caitlin had never heard him chuckle.

“My dear Ms. Kincaid, I believe I’m doing Travis a favor and saving him from that mouth of yours. You’d spit at the devil if you could,” Porter said.

“How do I know you’ll let Travis go?”

“You don’t.”

How could she be so stupid? “You’re killing him anyway, so, why should I help you?”

The older man’s eyes flashed angrily. “Because you don’t want to see him tortured.”

“Wh—what?”

“Caitlin, I haven’t made up my mind whether to kill Travis or not, but one thing’s for sure. If you don’t make headway in that file within the next hour, I’ll have my men start breaking every bone in Blake’s body until there’s nothing left to break,” Porter’s voice dripped with malevolent intent. “Do you really want to test me?”

Caitlin shook her head and concentrated on her task. She didn’t want to see Travis hurt, even for a single second. And with renewed determination, she broke into the Carpathian file.

“There,” she said quietly. A three dimensional map with the geographic coordinates of the plutonium cache opened on screen. “What next?”

“Now we wait and verify,” Porter said as he flicked through his phone. “Belov, get ready to send the file to Dmitry.”

“When will my wife get the money?” Milekhin asked belligerently.

“Patience, Milekhin,” Belov murmured, his fingers were flying over the keyboard to transmit the information to their associate in Germany.

Porter stood up and sauntered to the far corner of the room, waiting for his contact to answer the phone.
 

“Dmitry? . . . We’re sending you the information. As expected, it’s the Ukraine region. You can recall your men standing by in Romania . . . Good
 
. . . Good
 
. . . Yes, the file includes the transponder frequency . . . Two hours?
 
. . . We’ll stand by.”

Porter stared at Caitlin, his expression stoic. “Two hours, Ms. Kincaid.”

Two hours before Pavlo Milekhin ended her life.

*****

Travis crouched beside Nate. It had taken forever to get out of that neighborhood in Silver Springs, Maryland. Not familiar with the area, using his abductor’s beat-up car, with no GPS and only burner phones on him, he had to navigate the old fashioned way—ask for directions. When he finally found himself back on the Beltway, Shephard informed them of their meet-up point—a gas station in McClean.

Nate had tracked the black sedan to a craftsman style house in an older development. Overgrown shrubs and grass indicated the house hadn’t been occupied for a while. They ran the property information. It belonged to one Benjamin Porter.

The fucker.

“How many people did you see?” Travis asked.

“I saw Porter, Caitlin, and one other guy.”

“Was the other guy about five-ten, hundred-ninety pounds, brown hair in a buzz cut?”
 

“Yes, how did you know?”

“He was the one who tranq’d me at BSI.” Travis clenched his jaw. So, what was Porter going to do after Caitlin gave him the files, and he found out that Travis had escaped? Travis was going to nail Porter’s ass for this deception.

“Sorry, man,” Nate whispered.

“For what?”

“Not keeping your girl safe for you.”

It was easy to blame someone else, but blame wasn’t going to get his woman back. Travis thanked his lucky stars for Nate’s timely appearance at his house. There was no one better for tailing someone than Nate. His years in the CIA had trained him to be inconspicuous.
 

“Not your fault, Nate. I was the dumbass that wanted to go to Virginia Beach, got myself abducted, and used to blackmail Caitlin.”

“We’ll get her back.”

Travis nodded, unable to speak. Uneasiness roiled his gut. The day was going to get worse.

*****

An hour later, Porter’s phone rang. Caitlin watched the admiral’s mouth crack into a faint smile. The minuscule movement lit his face, indicating he’d received good news. She tried her best to remain calm. Maybe if she acted so pathetically helpless, Milekhin would spare her.

She looked at her would-be executioner. His eyes were shooting daggers of hatred at her.

Wishful thinking.

“We’ve got confirmation,” Porter said as he pocketed his phone. “Transfer the money, Belov.”

“Roger that, Sir,” Belov replied as he got busy on his laptop. Five minutes later, he was done. “Transferred. Thirty-five million dollars to account number 9832930991882.”

Milekhin raised his phone to his ear. “Olga. They’ve transferred the money. Do you see it?” He waited for a beat. “All there? Excellent . . . I’m taking Ms. Kincaid with me . . . You don’t need to deploy the kill code; I’ll let you know when I’m done so you can cancel it.” His cold eyes roamed over Caitlin’s body like a snake about to suffocate its prey. His brows suddenly furrowed. “Olga?”
 

Milekhin’s expression was one of alarm as his eyes flew to Porter whose face remained impassive. Milekhin backed away from the group as he repeated, “Olga? Olga . . .” He looked at his phone as if it were poison and punched a number again. Milekhin was growing more agitated by the second. He looked at Porter accusingly. “What did you do to my wife? I heard her cry out . . . the line got cut.”

“Do you honestly believe we’d choose a criminal over one of our own agents?” Porter taunted.
 

“You just killed her,” Milekhin sneered, pointing to Caitlin. “My wife and I die, the kill code gets deployed.”

“No, it won’t,” Porter said. “When we transferred the money, we attached a program that took over your wife’s computer when she verified the funds. It logged in to the assassin’s website and cancelled the kill code. I got confirmation just when you lost contact with your wife. It’s over.”

“What are you saying, Porter?” Caitlin asked, not quite believing what the admiral’s words were telling her.

“You’re free, Ms. Kincaid,” Porter smiled at her. “Sorry for abducting Travis, I had to make it believable to Milekhin that you were under duress. I was going to explain everything later; although, I think no amount of explanation is going to appease your husband.”

Oh, my God. Caitlin’s head was spinning from all this misdirection. So, was Porter a good guy after all? Caitlin knew what a kill code was. It was an intent to contract the services of an assassin.
 

“Belov, take Milekhin into custody.”

Belov stood up and walked by Caitlin. Before she knew what was happening, Belov shot Milekhin, and hauled Caitlin into his arms, pointing his gun at Porter.

“What’s the meaning of this, Crowe?”

Okay, was this another of Porter’s mind fucks?

“Good. I’m sick of the name Belov. Let’s stick to Crowe for the duration of this affair, shall we?”

“Let her go.”

“You crazy?” Crowe twisted the muzzle of the gun against her temple. “What’s locked in this head of hers is worth a fortune.”

“She’s done enough.”

“You’re letting your sentiment for your boy Travis Blake get in the way. You’re getting soft. I don’t want to work for weak men,” Crowe sneered. “Now, I want you to enter your code to reverse the thirty-five million. And Ms. Kincaid and I can disappear.”

“You’ve got it set up to load into your offshore account.”

“Bingo.”

“You think I’d simply hand you thirty-five million dollars?”

“One call from me, Travis gets it in the head,” Belov said.
 

“No!” Caitlin screamed. “You hurt him, I’ll never help you!”

“Oh, I’ve got all methods of coercion. Drugs, pain,” he whispered in her ear. “Sex.”

Obviously, Crowe boy here had underestimated her. Did he forget that she was once a specter agent? She grabbed the wrist of his gun hand and pushed it away at the same time she cracked her head into his chin; then she stomped her heel into his instep. She had purposefully worn sharp-heeled boots for exactly this purpose. Crowe howled in anger and pain.

Breaking free, she scampered toward Porter. She saw the admiral raise his gun and shoot at a point behind her. Twisting her head, she saw Crowe go down.

A door crashed open.

“Caitlin!”

Travis! She whirled around, her eyes catching his. Her heart burst with relief. He was safe! She made to run toward him then grew alarmed when his eyes flashed with horror.
 

“Caitlin, look out!” Porter shouted behind her.

There was a sound of a gunshot. A force whipped her body into an arc before propelling her forward in free fall at the same time pain inflamed her back. More gunshots.

She helplessly watched the floor rush up to meet her.

*****

When Travis heard the gunshot, he made the decision to go in. He told Nate to call 911 to send an ambulance and the police. There wasn’t time to plan the assault. He sprinted toward the house, which seemed so far away as his eyes developed tunnel vision.
 

Two more shots fired. Adrenalin whooshed through his veins as he shot through the deadlock and shouldered the door open, his trained eyes rapidly cleared each corner for threats before landing on the baffling tableau before him. Caitlin was standing close to Porter who had a hand on his arm.
Possibly shot or grazed?
Both of them were staring down at an immobile figure on the floor.

“Caitlin!” he shouted.
What the fuck is going on
? Why did Porter look pleased to see him when Travis was ready to kick his ass? Caitlin’s face lit up as she turned his way; her expression of relief cut through the tension coiled so tight inside him.
 

He was lowering his gun when horror set in. The man on the floor moved quickly, aiming his pistol at an unaware Caitlin.
Crowe!
Porter shouted a warning even as Travis dashed forward, arm already extended to shoot the hostile. Crowe fired first.

Travis squeezed his trigger the same time Porter did. Both bullets striking Crowe in the head given the blood spatter that followed.

Caitlin’s body had jerked before she fell face forward onto the wooden floor.

“No! Fuck, no!” Travis shouted as he skidded to his knees beside her. “Oh, God, please. No. Caitlin!”

“He got her in the back,” Porter said. “Probably ruptured a lung.”
 

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Travis growled. Shoving Porter away, he desperately applied pressure to her wound. Blood continued seeping out at an alarming rate. Her blood, her life was slipping away through the hole in her back.

This can’t be happening
.
 

I can’t fucking lose her.
 

Not now. Not ever.

“Ambulance is on its way,” Nate said behind him. “Oh, fuck.”
 

Nate handed him a first aid kit.
 

“Her airways are clear.” Porter ignored Travis’s warning not to touch his wife.

Travis nodded numbly as he doused his fingers with alcohol and took out the Quickclot and bandages to stem the bleeding until the paramedics arrived. Caitlin’s eyes were trying to flutter open. Her breathing was labored.
 

“Travis,” she whispered.

 
He wiped his hands on his jeans and tenderly brushed her hair from her face. Her head was turned, and she was lying on her right cheek with her eyes hooded. Her lips tried to curve into a smile. A wistful smile.

“You’ll be okay, Cat. Ambulance will be here soon,” Travis said, trying to keep the calm in his voice.

“I don’t hate you . . .”

Ah, hell. She is not saying goodbye.
 

“Cat, shh . . . I know you don’t.”
 

“I don’t hate you . . .”

“Save your strength, babe.”

“I love you . . . I’m sorry I . . .”
 

She sighed deeply. Her eyes closed. She was so still.

No!

“Stay with me, sunshine,” his voice cracked as he exhaled on a shuddering breath. “Don’t. Please, Cat . . .
 
don’t leave me again.”
 

Clear drops splattered on her cheek. He couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. His hand shook as he held it against her nose. Not breathing. He felt for her pulse.

No pulse.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It had been three hours.

Nate was leaning against the wall, looking at everyone waiting anxiously for news. Caitlin coded twice. The first time, Travis kept it together to immediately administer CPR and he was able to get her back just when the paramedics arrived. The second time was when they unloaded the gurney from the ambulance. That was when Travis lost his shit because it was beyond his control. Nate and Ed had to hold him back and talk him down so the nurses and doctors could do their jobs without Travis screaming at them to save her.