by Jodie Bailey
She grinned, her smile truly genuine for the first time, the joy radiant. “Gus is great. He’s a good dog, Travis. You should come by and see him. Phil would love if you visited.”
“It’s too hard to see him.” A shadow ghosted Travis’s face then vanished, almost as though regret winged by and he’d mentally swatted it away.
He didn’t retake his seat but stood by the table. He took a step away from Meredith and nodded toward Casey. “Meredith, this is Casey Jordan. Casey, this is Meredith Ingram. She and her husband, Phil, adopted my dog Gus. She was Gus’s vet, and when it came time for this last deployment, they took him in. It’s better for him to have a stable home with them than to watch me leave every time the army needs me elsewhere.”
“Adopted your dog? There’s so much more to...” She pivoted her entire body toward Casey, surveying her with the kind of interest usually reserved for famous athletes or rock stars. “Wait a second. Casey Jordan?” She glanced over her shoulder at Travis. “The Casey Jordan?”
Before Travis could speak, a deeper voice intruded. “My turn to say hello to the prodigal.” A man Casey hadn’t noticed reached around the woman to clasp Travis’s shoulder. He was as tall as Travis and as well built, too, his biceps peeking out the sleeves of a red polo shirt that sported an NC State University logo on the right chest. Deep brown eyes crinkled with a smile. “How long’s it been, man? Three months?”
Three months. Casey’s jaw slackened. Whoever these people were, they were close to Travis, yet they hadn’t seen him in three months. The same time he’d walked away from her.
The timing was too perfect to be a coincidence.
She shoved her chair from the table with a scrape on the concrete floor. This was a chance to edge closer to the truth. Smiling, she extended her hand to the woman. “Yes, I’m Casey Jordan.”
Travis stared, wearing one of those slightly guilty expressions, as though he’d gotten caught at something Casey couldn’t quite puzzle out. The wheels turning in his head were practically audible.
“So good to finally meet you. This is my husband, Phil.” The woman took Casey’s hand warmly, but then her grip tightened and she pulled Casey toward her, her eyebrow arching in amusement. Her smile widened and she glanced at Travis as she wrapped her other hand around Casey’s. “Do tell, Travis. I thought the two of you had split.”
Casey arched her own eyebrow at Travis and smiled. Rarely did he get rattled, but he was right now. This could be interesting and definitely better than everything else they could find to discuss this afternoon.
Yes, Travis. Do tell.
* * *
So this was what it felt like to be pinned to the wall.
The moment was surreal, as though the past three months hadn’t happened and he’d somehow time warped into his old life, with Casey by his side and Meredith and Phil as his friends.
It was one thing to run into Meredith. She was merely Phil’s wife, not a key player in everything that had happened three months ago.
But Phil? Phil was another story. One he definitely didn’t want brought up in front of Casey. After the way the other man had acted the night Travis and Casey had split, he couldn’t even look at the friend who had once walked with him through some of the hardest moments in his life.
But the way Meredith and Casey were both watching him now, they expected him to start talking.
He cracked a smile and crossed his arms, digging his fingernails into his palms. He’d honestly never expected to make this introduction. “Nothing to tell. Meredith and Phil, and yes, this is Casey.”
“Just Casey? Not my friend Casey? My acquaintance Casey?”
Man, Meredith was pushy. She couldn’t let this go? Couldn’t stand there like her husband and be silent? No, she couldn’t. He’d known her since high school in Florida. Even then, she was a talker driven by the need to know everything. Meeting Phil at North Carolina State and settling into marriage with him hadn’t dimmed her nosiness.
Casey’s cheeks reddened, and she looked at the table as she extracted her hand from Meredith’s. “Some of Travis’s former teammates are helping me with an article I’m writing.”
True, but he hated the way her voice quieted, like she wasn’t quite worthy of being here unless there was a practical reason. He hazarded a glance at Phil, who was watching Casey with an expression Travis couldn’t read.
Phil caught Travis looking and scratched his chin, his fingers crisscrossed with fresh scratches and bruises. “I remember Travis saying you were with Public Affairs. What’s this story on?”
“Someone I interviewed a while back gave me an idea for something else to chase, so I’m pursuing some leads.” Casey’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she tilted her head and let her gaze fall to Phil’s fingers. “You look like something chewed you up there.”
Phil glanced at his hand with a rueful grin. “Chewed is the perfect word. Meredith had a dog turn rowdy at the kennel early this morning, and I was doing my best to be a good husband.”
“I told you to let Dylan handle it, but no, you had to go over there when he called.” Meredith winked at Casey with a knowing look. “Somehow, they always think we need them to rush in and save us. I’m pretty sure Travis has been the same way since high school.”
This was all way too cute and fluffy. With his patience stretched thin by the morning’s pain and his mind shouting memories of Phil’s complete betrayal, this conversation was growing unbearable.
Phil had been Travis’s ear when he had been trying to work out whether he’d done the right thing by leaving Casey. It had been during one of those discussions when Travis had found himself sitting in Phil’s backyard about to tip back the beer that would set him on a downward spiral.
The beer Phil had handed him, knowing how hard Travis had struggled to keep himself off a dangerous road. The worst was the additional insinuation. And if the beer doesn’t work, we’ll move on to something stronger.
That was the real reason it had been three months since Meredith and Phil had seen him. Because for all the good advice he’d dished out, Phil’s beer-around-a-bonfire solution for all negative feelings was bad news for Travis’s self-discipline. Defiance rose in Travis and he stood taller, silently commanding the other man to back off.
Swallowing hard, Travis held out his hand to his former friend. “It’s good to see you and I hate to cut this short, but Casey and I were in the middle of some work and we need to get to it.”
Phil stared at his extended hand, something like annoyance playing across his face before he took it. “We’ll get together one day and have lunch. And, hey, you should at least come out and see the dog. He’d like a visit, I’m sure.”
“Maybe.” But he doubted it. Leaving the Australian shepherd behind had been harder than he’d expected, and time with the Ingrams led to nothing but trouble.
Phil nodded to Casey. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Over his shoulder, Meredith tilted her head, probably thrown sideways by the abrupt end to the conversation. “Sure. We should get going or we’ll miss the matinee at the Cameo.” She flashed a quick smile as her husband turned and ushered her to the narrow space by the main counter.
Casey sat and pulled her laptop close again. “She’s pretty.”
There was a hint of resignation in the way Casey said it, and it almost drove Travis to say something he shouldn’t. Meredith was all smoke and mirrors, and of all the women he’d ever seen, Casey topped the list.
None of their history was important, but he felt the deep need to let Casey know Meredith had never been anything more than a friend. “Meredith and I were in some of the same classes, yes. I didn’t really get to know her until I moved here and needed a vet for Gus. My parents knew hers, told me when she got married, and I recognized her name when I was searching.” With a deep sigh of resignation, he
pointed at the laptop she’d squared in front of her on the table. “Have you found anything?”
“I’ve glanced through some notes, but I can’t imagine what would be worth killing a man over.”
“You still think this has to do with your article?” She’d said as much on the ride from John’s house, blaming herself somehow for his death. A death Travis still couldn’t scrub off his hands, no matter how often he washed them or ran them along the sides of his jeans. He wrapped his fingers around the coffee cup, wishing it was hot enough to burn away the sensation that lingered on his skin.
“I don’t know. It’s not like anything I’m writing is going to rock anybody’s world. It’s a follow-up piece. Unless there’s classified info somebody’s afraid I’ll uncover, there’s nothing new to see here.”
“Nothing about the mission was ever classified. We were working with Border Patrol, and we stumbled on a group smuggling drugs in from Mexico. It was a big deal because of the ramifications of the takedown. Otherwise, it was pretty routine.”
“Then maybe we were mugged last night and John’s coincidentally dead today.” She tapped her thumb on the keyboard for a long moment, staring at the screen before she looked up. “Except I saw my laptop by John’s couch. And the police had plenty of questions about that. Somehow, all of this is connected.”
The way her face paled, Travis thought she was going to bolt from the table. He wanted to slide his chair over and wrap his arms around her for no other reason than to hold her up in the middle of this craziness. He’d hoped—along with Marcus—she hadn’t seen the laptop. But his hope was gone, and she was hurting.
There was nothing he could do about it. Travis dropped his hands to his thighs and balled his fists to keep from touching her. When he’d walked out on her, he’d forfeited every right to be her hero. Now, all he could do was sit in his place and make sure he stayed between her and danger, in a way that didn’t say he cared.
Because he couldn’t.
It took a second, but Casey stiffened her shoulders and lifted her head, focused on one of the autographed posters across the room. “If somebody took my laptop and went after someone I was interviewing, they must think he told me something.”
“Or they thought hurting you would hurt John.”
Casey barked a harsh laugh. “Um, no. Nobody wants me bad enough to beat a man to death to get to me. Try again. Even you—” She stuttered to a stop, her cheeks flashing red as she turned her attention to the screen of the laptop. “No. All of this has to be something about the mission you guys were on.”
Travis wanted to find a way to punch himself in the face. He was the jerk. He was the one who’d wounded her, who’d made her feel like she wasn’t worth his time, all because he’d been too chicken to tell her the truth. “I need to explain—”
“No. You don’t. We’re done. And if all of this wasn’t happening now, there wouldn’t be any reason for you to even be here.”
He started to try again, but he knew she wouldn’t hear him. He sat stone still, letting her take the lead, wishing he could make her understand but waiting to see which direction she’d go.
“I’m moving forward with the story. Whoever came at us last night wanted my laptop. He asked for it first, then added your wallet as an afterthought. All my notes and my contact info are on there. The mission wasn’t classified, but this could be about revenge, somebody from the cartel you disrupted coming at you guys. If somebody wanted to get to you—”
“Then they would have taken a shot at me last night.”
“Unless they didn’t realize who you were.”
“Or you’re wrong.” Couldn’t she see she was in danger? Travis would give his right arm for him to be the target instead of her. He couldn’t imagine losing her, even though she was no longer his to lose.
She ignored him. “I meet another soldier from your former team, Deacon Lewis, tomorrow at noon. I called him from work this morning and I didn’t put it in my online calendar, so if John’s killer accessed my devices, he wouldn’t have any way of knowing. If this is revenge, Deacon should be safe.”
“You have no proof this is revenge. So far, the sole link you have to my mission is your story and John. Nobody’s come at me. This could be about something completely different, something we haven’t even considered.”
“But what if you’re wrong?” She closed the lid on her laptop and stared at her fingers as she fidgeted with the cover. “And what if you’re next?”
SIX
What if you’re next?
Casey’s question hung in the air between them, the words so heavy they almost left an imprint in the stillness over the table. Last night, his attention had been on Casey. This afternoon, on the futile attempt at saving John and now on putting puzzle pieces together. The idea of being in danger was as remote as a combat outpost on the other side of the world.
But it made the hairs on the back of his neck come to full attention.
It was hard not to turn around and make sure no one was surveilling him...or aiming a gun at the back of his head.
Today was the worst day for paranoia. The perception of hidden eyes watching him crawled all the way down his spine and into his knees. He’d battled hard to overcome the fear that ate at him after Aiken died. Then, on his last deployment, a sniper’s shot had left Kristin’s brother dead. It had taken months for Travis to stop believing there was a bullet headed for him. The sensation rushed in again, surging his mind and body into overdrive.
He scrubbed the back of his neck and tried not to sound strangled. “Nobody’s trying to take me out. Coincidences are a rarity—”
“Something I’ve heard you say more than once.”
“But your thread is tenuous. The timing’s off if somebody’s out for revenge. The mission was years ago. The story’s wide open for anybody to read if they bother to search the internet. Finding us before now would have been easy.” Really, was he saying it to convince her, or to convince himself?
Either way, Casey didn’t look convinced. She gently pushed her laptop to the center of the table, then pressed her palms against her eyes. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m too—”
“Drained?” She looked it.
Her sun-kissed cheeks were pale and the delicate skin beneath her eyes shadowed when she dropped her hands to the table. “Maybe it’s time to go home and face my empty apartment and try to catch some sleep.” She shoved her chair away from the table, the scrape of metal on concrete harsh on Travis’s frayed nerves.
I’ll crash on your couch if it helps. The words nearly leaped out before Travis could wrestle them down. Even with the tenuous situation they were facing, such an offer overstepped reasonable bounds. But if it came to it, there was nothing to stop him from bunking in his truck with a straight-line view of her door.
Although Casey had always had an uncanny knack for knowing what he was thinking, she was off her game today. Good thing, or she’d reach across the table and smack him.
She went right on talking as she gathered the laptop’s power cord. “You were on the phone with me late last night, so you probably ought to catch some rest, as well.”
Yep. She had no idea what was on his mind. Travis couldn’t help but grin as he watched her shove her laptop and cord into a backpack.
On the way out, Casey waved at the barista and promised to see her in a couple of days, threading her way past a man a couple of inches shorter than her, who was ordering at the narrow space by the counter.
The man didn’t leave much room for Casey to squeeze past, watching her carefully as she tucked her backpack closer and edged by with a quiet “Excuse me.”
Travis totally got it. Casey was gorgeous, but the guy didn’t need to be eyeballing her like she was a cookie in the pastry case. He brushed the man’s back as he passed, a subtle signal to turn
his attention elsewhere.
The guy cast Travis a hostile glare, almost said something, then curled his lip with disgust and turned to the barista again.
Whatever. Travis had bigger fish to fry than a guy with no manners. At least he’d managed to stop the dude from leering after Casey where she waited, oblivious to the scrutiny, holding the door open for him in a way that said she was ready to get moving now that she’d decided to face her fears.
Slipping on his sunglasses even though trees and buildings shaded the sidewalk, Travis glanced up and down the street. He still couldn’t shake the prickly feeling of being watched. He scanned the sidewalk and looked over his shoulder. At least it wasn’t the coffee shop patron, who’d vanished from the counter to some other spot in the store.
Travis flipped a half salute to the barista and let the door slip shut.
He needed to get over himself. Maybe go for a long run—which he hated—or pack it in and drive to the beach and back to clear his head of the morning, his hands of the sensation of trying to pump life into John’s battered body and failing miserably.
If he and Casey were still together, he’d have suggested a quick run to the coast, a dinner of sandwiches and soda while they dug their toes in the sand, then return by midnight. It was half on his tongue to ask, but like bunking on her couch, it probably wasn’t a smart idea.
“You look like you’re plotting something.” Casey had stopped at the edge of the brick sidewalk and was eyeballing him like she really could read his thoughts.
That would be scary.
He looked both ways, waiting for a break in the Friday evening line of cars easing their way along the brick-paved street. “Me? Plotting? Not at all.”
An older Nissan 280ZX stopped half a block away and flashed its lights.
Travis and Casey both threw a wave of thanks and stepped into the street, aiming for Travis’s truck on the other side.
A sudden squeal tore the air.
Casey froze.
Travis whipped his head toward the sound, trying to place it.
