Calculated Vendetta

She was probably upset with him for going behind her back to call Kristin, but that was fine. It wasn’t like things between them could get worse. She hadn’t spoken to him in months anyway. Not that she should. He’d been the one to walk away. He’d had to, and he couldn’t give her an explanation without making everything harder than it already was.

Travis took a long draw from his Pepsi and eyed the TV. Noise. Distraction. Anything would be better than the racket inside his own head.

His phone screamed from the desk, and he set the drink beside it, answering the call right before it went to voice mail. Casey. Desperate to know she was really still there, he didn’t even bother with a hello. “You doing okay?”

The question stopped whatever she’d planned to say. She stuttered, then fell silent before she spoke. “Yeah, I am now. I wanted to thank you for stepping in.” Her voice was uncharacteristically subdued. “You could have been shot.”

“So could you.” The thought brought those same fears he’d felt the night he’d left her. His leg muscles tensed, and he fought to relax. She really was safe. Things had worked out...this time. “Just the simple actions of your everyday superhero, ma’am.”

She chuckled low. “I see you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I’m proud of that, if it’s a good thing. I promise to change immediately if it’s not.”

“You’re making my point for me.”

He’d keep making it, too, if she’d keep laughing, would keep chasing away the dark. In the past, she’d brought out the better man who lived inside him. Seemed like she still had the same ability. “Sorry I couldn’t save your laptop.”

“No worries. I get to spend tomorrow afternoon resetting my old one after I interview a guy for the article I’m working on.”

“You’re sure your laptop has a password?”

“Of course. It’s mine. I logged into it every day.”

“Good.” He winced. This was all the opposite of how it used to be. When he’d met Casey, they’d clicked immediately, from the moment she’d walked through Lucas’s front door and joined him on a pizza run. This? This was nowhere near the easy way they’d once fallen into. The discordance was his fault, and it stung in ways that made his palms sweat. “What’s your article about?”

“Nothing very interesting.” The way her voice dropped said differently.

“I doubt it. Tell me.” Not that he needed to know, but he wasn’t ready to stop talking and face his empty apartment again. He dropped into his desk chair and propped his feet on the windowsill.

She sighed in what sounded like defeat. “A Joint Task Force North mission on the Mexican border five years ago.”

Travis gripped the phone tighter. The shot was too close to the target for comfort. If she was talking with John Winslow, one of his former soldiers, it meant this was all about his mission. His team. “The one we ran with Border Patrol, when we rounded up enough henchmen to put an upstart cartel out of business?” He struggled to keep his voice level. She knew he’d been a team leader on the mission and she hadn’t even called to ask him for an interview.

No. Instead she’d called John Winslow. Awesome.

But that also meant she was with John tonight not because they were together, but because of her job. Her admission brought a warmth to his chilled bones. Only because she was safe from a self-proclaimed skirt chaser. Really, that was the only reason. Winslow was arrogant. Cocky. He collected women and tossed them aside as soon as he got tired of them, and it was usually faster than most people could imagine.

Travis winced. Kind of like he’d done a long, long time ago. “So tonight was an interview?”

“Tonight was dinner.”

“Oh.” His mood deflated. A date. She’d had a date. With Winslow.

Not only had she been out with a guy unworthy of her, it was one of his former soldiers to boot. The more he thought about it, the faster his fingers drummed the desk. “You could have interviewed me. I led the team.”

“I know.”

But she hadn’t called him. No explanation. No reason. Just I know. Maybe he deserved it.

Maybe it still burned anyway.

“I’m meeting him tomorrow afternoon at his house to go over—”

“I’ll go with you.” He’d take off work if he had to. No way was she going to meet Winslow at his house alone. The guy was smooth, and Casey was trusting. He’d have her head spun around so fast...

“Absolutely not.” Her words were as forceful as Travis had ever heard them.

Like a typical soldier, she’d never liked being bossed around in her personal life. He had to play this differently. “I haven’t seen Winslow in a couple of years, not since right before I last deployed. Didn’t even get a chance to speak to him tonight before he left. Would be a pretty interesting reunion.” To say the least.

Casey was quiet again, but this time, it was the kind of quiet that said she was considering his proposal.

“Think about it. You could interview me, too, and if John and I get talking, it might jog even more memories. You and I wouldn’t have to be alone. There would be somebody else there. I was the team leader. I can give you insight.”

He knew playing the reunion card would tug at her, and the prospect of a more fruitful interview would seal the deal. It tweaked his conscience a little, pretending he and John were better buddies than they had been, but she’d be a whole lot safer with backup beside her.

“You know what? Fine. I’m meeting him at one. I’ll text you the address and meet you there.”

“Nah, I’ll come by your place half an hour before. I’ll talk to you later.” He cut the call before she could protest, knowing her mother’s manners were instilled in her deeply enough to keep her from leaving before he got there.

Travis dropped the phone on his desk and spun it in a quick circle. Keeping his distance would be hard, but he couldn’t leave her alone now. He had to protect Casey when she went to interview John, keeping her safe from another guy who would break her heart.

THREE (#u54979d0c-0a00-5ae3-8910-e0c7161b4408)

Casey tapped the download button and settled in to watch the app she used for notes load onto her new laptop. The whole morning had been consumed with stopping at the Post Exchange on her way in to buy a new computer and backpack, then downloading and resetting everything to her liking. Around her, the office was fairly silent, typical of a Friday. Most of the staff were busy at their desks or out working on various assignments. Casey and a couple of others sat in their cubicles, typing stories or conducting phone interviews.

She dragged her hands down her cheeks and rubbed eyes burning from lack of sleep, then reached for the mug on the warmer on her desk. The amount of caffeine she’d consumed today probably bordered on the danger zone, but it sure wasn’t helping to keep her awake. All it had done was serve to make her already-bouncing nerves more jumpy.

She’d hardly slept, certain every stray sound in the apartment was the man with his gun coming to finish the job. There was zero evidence the attack was personal, but somewhere in the darkest part of the night, her brain had grown convinced a shadow had followed her home and was waiting for her to fall asleep before he crept into her private space to finish the job.

If it hadn’t been for Kristin bunking in the spare room, Casey probably would have wandered circles through the apartment all night, obsessively checking under the beds and behind the shower curtains. Instead, she’d stared at the ceiling—perfectly visible with the light on—and prayed over and over for God to hide her from anybody who wanted to kill her.

“You look like you haven’t hit the rack in about six weeks.”

Casey jumped at the voice, then dropped her hands flat on the desk and leaned back in the chair to look at the face peeking over her cubicle wall.

Staff Sergeant Joel Brenner was the new guy, arriving a couple of months earlier from Fort Sam Houston. Right at six feet tall with dark hair and blue eyes too impossible to be real, he’d caught the attention of every single lady in the office.

Except Casey. Try as she might, she couldn’t work up anything other than a feeling of friendship for the man who went out of his way to pay attention to her. He was as nice as he was gorgeous, but nothing made her want to give him a chance. Something inside her must be defective.

Brenner rested his crossed arms on the low wall, his usually laughing eyes grim. “Seriously. What is going on with you, Jordan? You aren’t yourself today.”

“Didn’t sleep well last night.” She hadn’t told anybody at work what had happened, other than her laptop had been stolen. Even the thought of the uproar if the whole place learned someone had held a gun on one of their own was too much to bear. “You know how it is.”

“Getting absorbed by your story?”

“You could say that.” In a roundabout, parallel universe kind of way, sure.

“You do realize it’s lunchtime?” Brenner slid his hands out to the sides and gripped the top of the cubicle, then leaned back as far as he dared without toppling the wall, surveying the room. “Almost everybody’s packed and lit out of here for chow already.” He pulled himself in and studied the top of her desk. “Want to go to the Starbucks over by the commissary and grab some real coffee?”