Page 46 of It's Always Been You

“She murdered my son, Alexandr. You got your revenge against John Cooper, why can’t I?”

“Because she holds a key to a hundred million dollars. That’s why.”

“You promised me the blood of Caitlin Kincaid.”

“That’s enough!”

“No!” Olga shouted. His sister was crying. He hated tears.

“It was your dealings with the CIA that got us into this mess in the first place.”

Alexandr cursed loudly and stood up from behind his desk. His sister backed away. Good. She knew he was ruthless and would only tolerate so much from her.

“Don’t ever question how I run the Bratva, dear sister. It was your husband who led this last mission and failed to acquire Ms. Kincaid and in the process, I lost one of my specter agents.”

“Pavlo said she had a bodyguard.”

“It was my understanding he was just one person. There were four of them. Admit it, Olga, there’s no other choice. If I don’t make the deal now, Travis Blake or the CIA will keep her out of sight forever and we end up losing everything.”

“And all they want in exchange for the money is to leave Kincaid alone? When did you become so trusting, Alexandr?”

“Porter has a month to get me my money. I will keep Pavlo stateside for the duration. Ms. Kincaid fails in that time frame, all bets are off and she is a fair target again. But before that time, I’m asking you to stand down, Olga. I know Pavlo is your lapdog. Do not think to have him defy me because I will have no problem having your husband killed. Understand?”

His sister nodded jerkily. She reluctantly backed away, turned, and left his study. He did not trust the look in her eyes. That bitch better not screw up his plans.

Porter had been reluctant to negotiate with him after Alexandr had reached out to the admiral. Komarov had informants throughout the agency, and his spy inside the NEST was able to provide him with an update on Caitlin Kincaid’s progress. Komarov had a copy of the files—all he needed was Ms. Kincaid to decrypt them for him. His informant warned him it was too early. She was not yet ready, but judging from her neural spectrometer results, she was close. And then the admiral showed up, and Komarov feared the CIA would sequester her into a more secure facility. He had to use one of his aces for negotiating with Porter. Komarov gave up the name of one of their double agents that was hindering the CIA’s efforts against the Zorin Bratva. Since Grigori Zorin’s organization was a rival, he was more than willing to help the admiral. Porter hadrefused a cent from the hundred million. Too many agents had died because of that blood money, the admiral reasoned.

Other details came to light that had influenced Komarov’s change of heart. He was not a romantic. But learning that Caitlin Kincaid had been taken from Travis Blake by John Cooper melted some of the ice in his frozen heart. He too had lost his wife in the endless vendetta between rival mobs. In some strange and disturbing twist of his conscience, he wanted them to have what he had failed to have—a love ever after . . . but only if he got his money back.

Caitlin’s eyes popped open.The shades to her room were drawn, but she could tell it was morning by the sliver of light escaping the edge of the window treatment. It had been three days since her attack. Her recovery was different this time. She hadn’t needed as much sleep, but her appetite doubled.

A heavy arm was slung over her waist and a hard body intertwined with hers.

Travis.

He started sleeping in her bed the day she came home from the hospital. She was too sleepy to argue with him that night when he carried her to bed. He climbed in beside her, ignoring her mumbled protests and gathered her into his arms. His masculine scent and comforting warmth wove a cocoon of security around her.

Her body relaxed just as his arm tightened across her belly. He knew she was awake.

He moved behind her, the mattress shifting on its box springs. She could tell he had propped himself up on an elbow. Fingers threaded through her hair to lift it away from her face, warm lips pressed a kiss to her jaw.

“Morning, babe,” Travis whispered. “You hungry?”

The growling in her stomach answered for her. Her skin flushed with embarrassment.

“I guess you are,” he chuckled. Planting another kiss on her cheek, Travis left the bed. “Come on downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll get breakfast going.”

Caitlin moved to lie on her back and stared up at the ceiling, pondering the events of the past few days, beginning with that afternoon at the NEST’s underground garage where all she remembered was the short stocky man reaching for her. Next thing she knew, she was waking up in a hospital undergoing x-rays, followed by twenty-four hours of grogginess—almost as if she had been drugged, but Travis swore he had not given her any sedative, just pain meds. She stretched gingerly. Her joints didn’t hurt, but the big blotches of bluish green bruises on her torso and back hurt as bad as they looked. She stared at the abrasions on her knuckles. Those also stung. Travis had insisted on helping her maneuver in the shower, and when he saw the discoloration on her body, he had murder in his eyes. Caitlin could feel the guilt rolling off him in waves, and the self-recrimination in his eyes was more painful to witness than the pain from her injuries.

So now he was driving her crazy with his hovering. He hadn’t gone to the BSI office since the incident at the NEST. Sam had continued to provide security. If she was ever curious what it felt like to be shrink-wrapped and stored away, she wasn’t now.

Her stomach acids reminded her that she needed food. Sighing, she pushed up and walked to the bathroom.

After breakfast,Travis suggested they retire to the TV room. Sam was somewhere around the property doing a perimeter check.

“Can we go outside?” Caitlin asked. “I want to finish my coffee on the back patio.”

Travis hesitated before saying, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be outside.”

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