“I’m groggy. Did you give me something?”
Travis inclined his head. “We had to sedate you.” His tone was wary. “I need to know how often you get this way.”
“Bythis way, you mean violent?”
“Sar-Caitlin. Do you remember anything at all?”
She shook her head.
Travis was silent for a beat and then, “What brings this on? Is it accidental or can you control it?”
“I can’t control it,” Caitlin replied, ignoring the first question and answering the second.
It was not lost on Travis that she was evading his question. His brows puckered into a frown. “Caitlin, I need to know what sets you off. I can’t have you on a plane 40,000 feet in the air and have you go all ninja on us.”
If the situation wasn’t so serious, she would have laughed. She didn’t think Travis was in a joking mood either. “When I feel threatened, it kicks in. Adrenalin sets it off.”
“Who did this to you, Caitlin?” Travis asked quietly. There was an underlying menace in his voice, though not directed at her.
Caitlin moved away from him and walked to the kitchen. “I’m not sure I trust you enough to tell you everything.”
“But you will.”
She cut Travis a sharp glance, but he was staring at her with determination.
“You’re awfully sure I’m coming back with you.”
“There’s nothing for you here except danger.” His nostrils flared. “That stunt you pulled this afternoon is all over the internet. My people are trying to clean it up, but I don’t think that’s possible. It’s already on the news.”
“What—”
“I used another identity to check into this hotel, but we still need to leave immediately. If possible, within the next two hours. I already have my plane on standby.”
“But—”
Travis closed the distance between them and gripped her shoulders. “Listen to me. The men who are after you are Russian mafia—arms dealers. I have no idea how the CIA got caught up in their mess, but you shot and killed Adler, and so far it’s a dead end. The Berlin police are taking the lead on this, and it’s out of our jurisdiction.”
“How many did I kill?”
“Caitlin, it doesn’t—”
“How many, Travis?”
“Two.”
“Why am I not in police custody?”
“The embassy and I took care of it.”
“What? How?”
“It’s not your problem anymore.”
“Travis—”
“Damn it, Sarah. I handled it, okay? Get dressed; we leave in a fucking hour.”
Childishly determined to get in the last word, she said, “My name is Caitlin.”
