Travis grunted in irritation and marched toward the exit of the shooting facility.
“You’re my ride,” Nate said, falling in step with him.
“What? Why? Where’s your car?”
“Shephard dropped me off,” Nate said. “Wanted me to sort you out first before you head back to the office.”
“All of you just need to back off,” Travis grumbled as he bleeped the locks of the Escalade.
Nate got into the passenger side, but didn’t say anything for a while. Travis, however, could feel the concern coming from his friend. Nate had seen him at his worst. The early days after Sarah’s death, Travis had mostly been angry and prone to uncontrollable violence. Nate had been the one to bail him out of jail and told him he could kiss any future in the private security sector goodbye if he couldn’t control his temper. At that time, Travis didn’t care. Sarah’s death had dashed any hopes he had of a future. Getting back with the SEALs had helped, for he redirected his anger and grief toward taking out terrorists with cold precision.
“I’m not even going to ask if it’s Caitlin,” Nate finally said. “Em said she seems to be adjusting, so I don’t get your shit mood.”
Travis gave a mirthless laugh. “Oh, she’s adjusting. She gets along fine with Emily and everyone else. But around me, she’s still skittish. The other day, she fucking told me to give her some space.”
“Are you smothering her?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Travis snapped. “First the damned shrink. Then Emily. And now, you, too? What the fuck, man?”
Nate sighed, which irritated Travis more.
“I’m just saying, Trav. You’re a stranger to Caitlin,” Nate said.
“She had been a one-night stand,” Travis whispered. “That was one night that changed my life. We fell in love overnight, became inseparable. I don’t know why she’s fighting it this time around.”
“They say some brain injuries can bring about personality changes,” Nate said. “Hers was serious enough to cause permanent amnesia. You also have to consider everything that has happened. John Cooper or Jase Locke lied to her for three years.”
Travis took a sharp left turn that threw Nate against the door. His friend shot him a fulminating look, but didn’t say anything.
“Caitlin’s troubled that she may have left with Locke willingly.” Travis gritted his teeth.
“You believe that?”
“Hell, no,” Travis muttered. He guided the Escalade into an underground parking garage. Zipping into his reserved space, he killed the engine and got out of the car. He slammed the door close and walked a couple of steps to the front of the car and leaned back on the hood, staring at his feet. Nate came up beside him.
He glanced over to his friend and said, “I just want to move forward. I don’t care what happened in the past. I want to marry her again. Nobody can give me a straight answer and tell me if we’re still married or not. Her name is different. She’s not becoming Sarah Blake again. We can always have lawyers mess with affidavits and all that. But I want a clean start for both of us.” Travis paused. “She’s Caitlin Kincaid. I want her to become Caitlin Blake. My heart already knows she’s my wife. I just need to convince hers. I’m in love with her, Nate. I love her, and I can’t even tell her because I’m afraid she’ll run. It’s getting frustrating.”
“It’s only been two weeks.”
“You’re forgetting I lost her for three years,” Travis said roughly. “You don’t understand.”
Nate’s face drained of emotion, his expression hardened. “You’d be surprised how much I do.”
His friend turned around and strode to the bank of elevators.
Travis stood back, a bit baffled. Nate couldn’t still be hung up on Sylvie?
Travis followed his friend, resolving to be less of a self-centered prick.
Caitlin stared incredulouslyat the impassive man before her. “You want me to do what?”
“Break the encryption,” Benjamin Porter repeated his earlier demand.
Caitlin thought the admiral had lost his mind. She stared at the laptop before her. On its screen was a list of files.
“Those files are encrypted with a 64-bit algorithm. You have worked with advanced ciphers before—almost unbreakable ones between 156 and 256. You can certainly handle this one.”
“You’re nuts,” Caitlin muttered. “Ever heard of the saying: It’s Greek to me?”
