Page 115 of It's Always Been You


Font Size:

“Please don’t hurt Sam.”

“You’ll have to make sure he’s not a problem when we come get you.”

“How much time do I have?”

“We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Damn Porter.How could she figure out how to take Sam down in thirty minutes? What could she use? A rolling pin? A vase? She stared at Sam’s head. That looked like a very hard head. She seemed to be the bane of his existence. Aside from a dislocated shoulder, she was contemplating giving him a bad headache as well. She cringed as she remembered how she had raged like an idealistic bitch thinking that she was above the dirty games of the CIA. She was such a hypocrite. The price of her compliance was Travis. She now understood the delicate balance her husband was trying to maintain. It was all for her, and she couldn’t do this one thing to ease the way for him. If she’d just given Porter the coordinates, her man wouldn’t be in this predicament. And Porter had to send Travis in an emotional tailspin with the pictures, which turned out to be a manipulation yet again.

“Look, I know you and Travis had a fight,” Sam said gently. They were sitting around the bar area at the kitchen. She decided to pour herself a shot of tequila for liquidfortification and to numb some of her guilt. Because even if she’d made up her mind to follow Porter’s wishes, her conscience wouldn’t shut up that she had been right to withhold the coordinates. “But that man is crazy about you,” Sam continued. “Whatever he had to do was important to him.”

“Yes. But it was destructive to us,” Caitlin said. “I don’t know why he didn’t just leave well enough alone.” She looked at the clock. She didn’t have much time.

“Sam, how do you feel about me?”

Her bodyguard’s face turned wary. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been a pain in the ass. And I hate that you got hurt protecting me.”

“It’s my job, Caitlin.”

“So, you’ll forgive me anything?”

“If you try to sneak out, I’ll be really, really pissed at you.”

The doorbell sounded.

“That must be Nate,” Caitlin said as she got off the bar stool to answer the door. Maybe she could just make a run for it. Sam yanked her behind him as he moved to the door.

“Nate has a key. He wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell.” Sam’s voice turned edgy.

Shit. Think quickly, Caitlin. She grabbed the heavy vase.

She raised the object on her unsuspecting target.

“Sorry, Sam,” she whispered.

Her arms came down forcefully.

“C-C-aitlin . . . what . . .”Sam croaked. He was down but not out. He was sprawled in front of her, looking at her with pained, shocked eyes.

Shit. He did have a hard head.

The doorbell rang again.

If Sam was conscious, they might not leave him alive.

Feeling wretched, she grabbed a heavier vase.

“Caitlin, don’t! Whatever they’re making you do—” Sam struggled to all fours.

“I need to do this.” She swung the vase this time, striking his temple with blunt force and knocked him out cold.

Thank God!

She threw open the door. Porter stood there with his man.

The admiral looked behind her.