by Jodie Bailey
The muscles in his cheek tightened, but he merely shook his head. “Nothing. Yesterday would make anybody antsy, even me.”
“You’re lying.” The words leaped out before she could stop them, heating the skin of her cheeks. But the embarrassment dragged out her anger full force. She was in the middle of this, and he didn’t get to keep things from her. Before he could do more than drop his jaw to react, she charged on, angling in the seat to face him. “Tell me the truth. Now.”
He pulled his attention from the road and looked at her as though she’d sprouted a second nose. He arched an eyebrow in something like wonder, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring out the windshield. “Wow. I didn’t know you had so much fire in you, Case.”
“Travis...” He didn’t get to flatter her into distraction. Not now.
His posture slumped slightly, victory coming a whole lot faster than Casey had anticipated. “My buddy you met yesterday, the cop, Marcus Brewer? He told me to keep an eye on you, and I intend to listen.”
Her head drew back, hitting the edge of the headrest. Even though she’d caught Marcus Brewer eyeing her strangely yesterday, she couldn’t believe this was the thing that had Travis acting like his fuse was lit and burning fast. “You expect me to believe your buddy thinks I’m in some sort of hot water?”
“Believe me, I wish this was all in my head.” He glanced at her again, his fingers kneading the steering wheel as he waited at a stoplight. “This whole mess keeps me thinking... What if you stumbled onto something totally apart from the JTF mission? What if there’s something bigger going on? I know it looks like I’m the target, but nobody’s broken into my house and stolen my stuff. And now Deacon’s missing. Nothing makes sense.”
“Deacon’s not missing. He’s just not answering his phone. Maybe he left it on the kitchen counter. Maybe he’s on a breakfast date. Or in the shower and we’re going to look like idiots pounding on his door.” Even knowing Deacon as little as she did, Casey knew every one of those reasons was lame. Still, once in this whole mess, she’d like for the easy thing to be true.
Watching another car drive through the intersection, Travis said, “Don’t ignore the fact we were nearly run down yesterday.” His voice held an edge Casey had rarely heard, not anger but something slightly more jagged.
They weren’t having this argument again. Casey sighed and stared out the front window as Travis hung a left into Deacon’s apartment complex. They were both trying to make coherent sentences out of alphabet soup, when everything refused to come together. “I’m not ready to believe somebody’s after me. You’re the more plausible target.” Sure, she said the words out loud, but Casey wasn’t ready to admit she hadn’t slept well last night, knowing someone had been in her apartment, had violated her space. The theft of her computers didn’t fit neatly into her whole “they’re only after Travis” theory. She’d distinctly heard every creak Kristin’s old house made, certain footsteps crept up the hallway. But, yeah, she’d keep it to herself.
Travis backed into a space next to a dark gray sedan and shoved the truck into Park before turning to her, the leather seat creaking. He started counting on his fingers as he spoke. “First, you and I are mugged in the parking lot at a Mexican restaurant. Second, John’s killed and your laptop is at the scene. Third, we’re targeted in the middle of Hay Street. Fourth, your apartment is hit. Now Deacon’s gone off the grid?” His gaze pinned on hers, his mouth a grim line. “I’m out of fingers to count on, and I don’t buy such a long string of coincidences.”
Apparently, they were having this argument again after all. “Then you’re the one who should be worried, because the target isn’t me. It’s you.” She ticked off a list of her own. “The mugging, John’s murder, the hit-and-run, Deacon... You’re a stronger connection than I am.”
For the smallest second, her assertion hit home. Doubt flickered across his features, but then he raised one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “You said revenge yesterday, but I don’t buy it. Not this many years later.” He held up a hand, stopping her next argument. “Your laptop. Your computers at your apartment. To me, those are compelling bits of evidence. Casey, this is about you.”
“Unless they think I have information on...” The words died. All she could see was her familiar computer case, spattered with John’s blood. Her chin dropped and she studied her hands twisted together in her lap. “I don’t know.” The words barely qualified as a whisper, hardly audible in the silence of the truck.
“Casey, listen...” Travis leaned closer, the warmth of him palpable in the air-conditioned cab of the pickup. “I want you to think about packing up and staying somewhere on post for a while. I don’t want to scare you, but—” The words stopped and his breath quickened.
Lifting her head, Casey expected to see him staring at her, but he was focused on something out the windshield.
“Travis?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, Travis leaned forward slightly, watching something at the front of the apartment building. The lines around his mouth tightened as his brow furrowed.
Casey turned to look over her shoulder. “What do you—” Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she instinctively unclasped her seat belt as Travis whipped around in the seat and shoved his door open, out of the truck before Casey could finish her question.
She reached for the door handle to follow him but stopped and bit back a scream. In the gray sedan beside them, Deacon Lewis slumped over the steering wheel.
NINE
Travis slid down in the vinyl chair in the emergency waiting room and stretched his legs, dragging his palms down his cheeks. If things didn’t ease soon, he was going to have to head to Kristin’s basement gym and go a few rounds with a punching bag. Either that or his body was going to turn itself inside out from the tension.
The waiting area of the emergency room hummed with noise and smelled like hospitals always seemed to smell, the antiseptic odor nobody would ever claim to like. It sure wasn’t sitting well with him.
He’d ignored his gut last night. Because he hadn’t called Deacon sooner, his former friend was somewhere in this hospital, possibly fighting for his life.
Once again, he’d failed.
Beside him, Casey shifted, her knee brushing his thigh. It was the first contact she’d made since they’d found Deacon unconscious in his car, and it jolted into his chest, same as it had when they’d first started dating and he’d felt like the biggest man in the world because he got to hold her hand.
Those months felt like decades ago. He’d left and, right now, he couldn’t remember why. With the world spinning around him, all he wanted was to rewind to three months ago and undo the damage. Maybe then she’d be safe. Maybe then he’d have the right to draw her to him and shield her from whatever came next.
Maybe then he wouldn’t be staring at a report date to selection for a unit that would ask everything of him.
Casey sighed and turned her knees away, leaving the spot she’d brushed somehow colder than the rest of him. “At least Deacon was alive when we found him.” Her voice was thin, almost lost in the conversation buzzing in the room.
Small consolation. Deacon had a gray look about him, his pulse thready, his breathing shallow. Another few minutes and they might have been too late. The thought rocked Travis, images from the past three days swirling together. Too late for John and too many near misses for them. He ran his thumb along the road rash in his palm, where he’d landed hard on Hay Street as the car sped past, the sting dragging him into the moment.
Too much was happening, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.
Without letting himself second-guess the consequences, he reached for Casey’s hand and laced his fingers through hers, searching for something to hold, seeking something to remind him they were still alive.
Desperate to protect her. The
clues pointed everywhere, and figuring out who was in danger was growing more impossible every second.
Casey hesitated, her fingers stiff, but then, like ice cream melting on a July day, they softened and curled around his to send a warmth up his arm and into the deepest part of him.
He hadn’t realized how cold he was.
It must have shown because she held on tighter. “What are you thinking that’s got your face looking like you downed one too many of Kristin’s oranges?”
Travis allowed himself a slight smile. Man, she’d been able to read him since the day she met him. Rarely did she say anything out loud, but she’d always followed his thoughts wherever they rambled. Looked like some things never changed. “I’m thinking I’m an idiot.” He slid his feet closer to his chair to let a woman and her small son pass, then stretched out again.
“You saved Deacon’s life. If you hadn’t thought so fast and decided we needed to go to his apartment instead of waiting...” Casey shuddered, her fingers tightening around his. “We made it in time. Deacon has made it this far. Hopefully, he’ll make it all the way. I keep praying. So, no. You’re far from an idiot.”
Maybe he wasn’t an idiot where Deacon was concerned, but he sure had been with Casey. More than anything, he wanted to tell her, then to call the chain of command and tell them he was needed here more than he was needed at selection.
But his thought shouldn’t be there. He shoved aside the past and said another quick prayer Deacon would survive whatever had happened to him. Travis hadn’t stopped praying since the moment he’d spotted Deacon slumped over his steering wheel, heavy and limp. “We should have at least let him know sooner John was dead. It might have put his guard up.”
“Those kinds of things are easy to think now. You can’t beat yourself to pieces for not knowing the future. Realistically, you couldn’t have seen this coming. Right now, you can only do what you’re having Lucas do—call the rest of your men to tell them this is happening.”
Clamping his teeth on the tip of his tongue, Travis pulled his hand from Casey’s and sat forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the tile floor. Those words were almost exactly what his commander had said after Neil Aiken died. Nobody could have seen it coming.
Well, Travis should have. He was supposed to be vigilant at all times, was supposed to anticipate the next attack. Overseas, he’d missed it, wrapped in his own exhaustion and his own needs when the threat had been right beneath their feet. This time, he’d been so caught up in protecting Casey and trying to put the pieces together, he’d missed the bigger picture. His former teammates were in danger, just as she’d argued. Whether it was because of something Casey was doing or because of the op all those years ago didn’t matter. Whether Casey was also a target or not didn’t change anything. They were in danger. And he’d missed it because he was focused on her.
As much as he would give to touch Casey again, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He needed to take a step away, to think about this logically, the way he’d been trained, without the scent of vanilla and apples that always hovered around her.
If he walked away for a minute to clear his head, she’d be safe. An armed security guard stood by the door, watching the room. The waiting area was packed, and Travis was certain no one would approach her in such a closed environment.
Shoving his hands against his knees, he stood and stared across the room, not even daring to look at her. If he caught her eye, he’d waver. “I need a cup of coffee and some fresh air. I’m going to walk around the outside to the main lobby. You want to hang here in case they come out with news about Deacon?”
She started to stand, then sank in her chair with the weight of his implied leave me alone. Without looking, he knew her shoulders would be slouched the way they did when she felt she was being left behind. Travis wished he could explain. He wasn’t leaving her.
Except he was.
He was running away. Again. He couldn’t tell her why because he didn’t know the reason himself. All he knew was he had to get away.
“I’ll stay. I’ll text you if anything happens.” Her voice was heavy, the weight dragging him to her.
Giving in would be so easy, but if he did, he’d wrap her in his arms and never let go. That wouldn’t be good for either of them. He’d hurt her, get close for a few days then back away when he had to leave, cutting them both.
Exiting the doors near the parking lot, Travis inhaled the humid afternoon heat, grateful to be free of the stifling weight of the air inside. Skirting cars and taking the long way around the parking deck, he entered the main lobby. He was halfway to the coffee cart when the sound of his name stopped him.
Phil Ingram crossed the lobby from a far hallway in long strides, concern etching his features. “Travis.” He stopped and clamped a hand on Travis’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
“Phil.” Travis eased himself from Phil’s grasp. When he’d broken things off with Casey, the hurt had nearly thrown him backward into the worst version of himself, especially when he stopped by Phil’s and the man offered him a beer to take the edge off, one of the very habits Travis had fought to kick.
Some friend.
Right now, he definitely didn’t need any more voices added to the noise in his head. This conversation had to end quickly. “Buddy of mine had to go to the ER.” With the investigation ongoing, he wasn’t sure what he could say, and there wasn’t much he wanted to say to Phil anyway.
“Scared me, seeing you here.” Phil looked relieved. “Hey, I just wrapped a class on nutrition for pregnant mothers. You need anything while you wait? Want to grab a bite in the cafeteria? They have a mean chicken sandwich. Been a while since we talked.”
Travis forced a smile. Why he’d vanished was not a discussion he wanted to have right now...or ever. “Things got a little crazy.”
“From what I saw on the news, it’s getting crazier.”
“What are you saying?” He hadn’t bothered with the news in days. If something in the world was about to have them wheels up and shipped out to parts unknown before he knew Casey was safe, he wasn’t sure how he’d make it through.
“We saw the news story about John Winslow. You were in one of the wide shots. You were there?”
The knots inside him unwound. Only his immediate world was out of control. “I went with Casey to interview him for a story.”
Phil nodded, his expression grim. “Sounds like it was pretty bad.” He glanced at his watch, then in the direction of the cafeteria. “John and I hung around together some after you deployed. Do you know if Casey got what she needed before he died?”
The spin in this conversation almost made Travis dizzy. It was as though Phil couldn’t focus on one thing longer than ten seconds. “I couldn’t—” His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to glance at the screen.
Deacon’s in a room. Asking for me.
Travis’s muscles tensed for action. “I have to go.” He threw a confused Phil an abrupt wave and jogged for the hall to the ER, mind racing.
If Deacon was asking for Casey, then maybe the answers they needed were about to fall right into their hands.
* * *
She shouldn’t have texted him.
Travis’s great escape from the waiting room had everything to do with her. It was obvious. The way he’d tensed when she touched him had told the whole story. He was even less interested now than he had been months ago.
Yet somehow he kept showing up where she was.
And she needed him.
Whether Travis needed her or not, she needed him, more now than ever. Things kept getting weirder, and the more she tried to put it all together, the more her brain felt like scrambled eggs.
It was becoming painfully obvious she couldn’t get through this without somebody beside her, no matter how much she wanted to. And no matt
er how much she didn’t want the person who had let her fall in the past be the one she leaned on in the present.
“Case.”
She jumped. He’d come in behind her through the hospital, not the way he’d left.
And again with the nickname. All her life, she’d hated when somebody shortened her given name, but Travis had called her Case from day one. She ought to tell him to stop.
But it felt too good to hear it.
She closed her eyes and took a second to prepare for the sight of him, then turned.
He looked like he’d run a marathon. His eyes were wider than usual, bright with something that looked like anger or fear. His face was flushed as though he’d sprinted the length of the hallway.
Probably because he wanted to hear what Deacon had to say.
“How’s Deac? Did they tell you?”
Yep. Information on Deacon’s condition was all he wanted. Casey swallowed her disappointment. “All I know is they put him in a regular room and he’s asking for...” It sounded strange to say it out loud.
“You.”
She nodded once. “I have no idea why. It’s not like...” She shrugged. “He should have asked for you. You’re the one who saved his life.”
“But he’s smart. He knows the better half of this duo is you.” Travis grabbed her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers and tugging her gently toward the door leading to the main hall. “Let’s go. Looks like he’s got something he wants to say to you.”
Rather than get dragged along like a reluctant child, Casey kept pace. Travis would let go at any second, once she caught up.
But he didn’t. He held tight all the way through the halls, in the elevator and to the door of Deacon Lewis’s private room.
