Calculated Vendetta

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

“Thank you.” Casey’s hand shook slightly as she took the grande green tea from the barista’s hand and turned to find a seat. Even now, hours after watching John Winslow take his last breath, hours after watching Travis’s frantic attempt to pump life into the man, her nerves still refused to settle. Death overseas was one horrible thing. Death on the home front held a shock value all its own.

Without waiting for Travis, she drifted into the corner of the funky little coffeehouse she usually frequented with Kristin. The familiar warm fragrance of fresh coffee and gourmet chocolates brought a little bit of peace, but Casey wished she had a whole lot more. She sought out the table farthest from the front door, her back to the wall and her peripheral vision capturing the narrow hallway leading to a small enclosed courtyard. Nobody was sneaking up on her. Not in reality and not in her imagination.

Even here, Casey felt exposed, as though everyone from the barista to the solitary man sitting at the table by the front window was watching, waiting for her to...

To what? Breathe normally again? It was certain she wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon. And it was certain shock would dog her deep into the night, keeping her awake when she desperately tried to grasp sleep.

Fighting the chill inside her was futile. Distraction was the only place to hide, so she opened her laptop. Somehow, she couldn’t help but think—especially after all the pointed questions the police had asked—John’s death lay at her feet because of her article, which meant combing through every note she’d taken.

Travis slid out the bright red chair across from her and moved it to the side so he faced the café at a right angle to her. He put his huge cup of coffee onto the metal table, glancing around the room as he sat. He’d showered at his apartment while Casey ran more updates on her new laptop in the apartment complex’s business center. Now a dark blue T-shirt emblazoned with the Denver Broncos logo hugged his chest in place of the gray one he’d worn earlier.

He stretched his arms out to his sides, pulling his T-shirt tight across his chest. “This place is so tiny, I think I could touch both walls with my fingertips.”

Casey smiled, unable to hold on to her anger at him in view of all they’d witnessed today. Bless Travis. This was what she needed. Normalcy. Conversation devoid of dead men and beatings.

She shuddered and pushed the laptop aside, forcing herself to focus on the bright yellow wall covered with vintage concert posters. “You’ve never been here?”

“I’ve rarely been downtown. No reason to, really. It’s...cute.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not bad. Just cute.” He flashed her a grin that telegraphed how hard he was trying to make everything all better and took a sip of his drink. “Coffee’s good.”

“It is.” Mimicking his gesture, she sipped the green tea and grimaced. She never drank the stuff. It tasted too much like fresh-cut grass smelled. Today, though, the thought of her usual cherry-mocha coffee had given her stomach pause. “Thanks for understanding I wasn’t ready to go home.” Although coffee with Travis Heath was pretty low on her list of ought-to-dos, it was a better alternative than her empty apartment without a way to distract herself from the visions in her head.

Travis started to say something, then lifted his cup and tipped it toward her in a salute instead.

“What?”

One eyebrow arched at her in innocent question.

Casey wasn’t buying the routine. “What were you about to say?”

Setting the cup on the table, Travis took his time getting it positioned. “You’re not the only one who needed company, so don’t go thinking you’re weak. If you want the truth, I ought to be thanking you for suggesting this place.” He swung out his arm to encompass the rock-and-roll decor. “Even if I feel like I need sunglasses indoors.”

A genuine smile tugged at the corner of Casey’s mouth. Nothing about him had changed. Not the way he read her every thought. Not the hair that was never as short as the army said it should be. And not the smile that quirked his lips, an indication of the humor crackling through every situation.

The ripple inside her stomach this time had nothing to do with what she’d seen during the morning, but it was equally dangerous. No matter what she felt, Travis represented everything she didn’t want out of life. It took a lot of concentration to force her words out evenly. “Go ahead. Try to feel dark in here. Can’t be done. I come here as often as I can.”

“You come here a lot? Since when? Pretty sure I’d never be able to forget you bringing me here.” He shifted to look at something by the front door, almost like he knew he might have gone too far.

Except it didn’t feel like too far. And it didn’t feel like what Casey had feared bringing up the past would. Until the very last second of their relationship, he had never made her feel anything other than safe and happy. And then...nothing. Sitting with Travis shouldn’t be like slipping on an old shoe. Feeling comfortable around him was easy and dangerous, asking to walk right into the same emotions that had let him hurt her before, even if the pain had likely saved them both a lot more trouble in the long run.

But sitting here did bring comfort. Peace. Today, she needed comfort more than she needed to guard her heart.

She shrugged off his comment. “It’s more of a me and Kristin thing. Girl time. I never thought about bringing you. It’s not really your kind of place, is it?”

His eyes narrowed, never leaving hers, the intensity of his stare amping the tremor in her stomach. “A lot of things aren’t me.” He leaned closer, forearms resting on the table. “I know the timing stinks, but there’s something I—”

“Travis?” A woman’s voice whipped across the coffeehouse and snapped into the moment.

He trailed off, his jaw jutting forward. Catching himself, he relaxed his expression and turned toward the front of the shop and the voice.

Casey wanted to be relieved that whatever serious topic he’d been about to delve into had been derailed, but something in her strained toward him, pushing against her skin. It was probably good they’d been interrupted, because wherever he was headed, she didn’t need to follow.

A tall woman, blond hair flowing in thick waves to her shoulders, squeezed past a customer in the narrow space by the counter and headed toward them. She was smiling directly at Travis.

It felt like a punch to the throat.

A double punch when Travis stood and the woman threw her arms around his neck like he was her long-lost best friend.

She was as gorgeous as they came. The slim jeans she wore with high-heeled sandals made her look leggier than she already was. And she’d probably been schooled in how to apply makeup to achieve a look both natural and flawless.

Casey sat on her hands to keep from reaching up to check how wild the wind had made her own short blond hair, which wouldn’t shine like that even if she dumped olive oil on it. She probably looked as though she’d been spit out of a hot dryer halfway through the cycle. No competition here.

“Meredith.” Travis’s shoulders squared more than usual, and he watched the front of the shop warily as though he expected a gunman to burst through the door at any second. “Is Phil with you?”

For the barest second, the other woman’s expression dropped, but she caught herself and smiled, waving a hand behind her. “Parking the car.”

“And how’s Gus?”

She grinned, her smile truly genuine for the first time, the joy radiant. “Gus is great. He’s a good dog, Travis. You should come by and see him. Phil would love if you visited.”

“It’s too hard to see him.” A shadow ghosted Travis’s face then vanished, almost as though regret winged by and he’d mentally swatted it away.

He didn’t retake his seat but stood by the table. He took a step away from Meredith and nodded toward Casey. “Meredith, this is Casey Jordan. Casey, this is Meredith Ingram. She and her husband, Phil, adopted my dog Gus. She was Gus’s vet, and when it came time for this last deployment, they took him in. It’s better for him to have a stable home with them than to watch me leave every time the army needs me elsewhere.”

“Adopted your dog? There’s so much more to...” She pivoted her entire body toward Casey, surveying her with the kind of interest usually reserved for famous athletes or rock stars. “Wait a second. Casey Jordan?” She glanced over her shoulder at Travis. “The Casey Jordan?”

Before Travis could speak, a deeper voice intruded. “My turn to say hello to the prodigal.” A man Casey hadn’t noticed reached around the woman to clasp Travis’s shoulder. He was as tall as Travis and as well built, too, his biceps peeking out the sleeves of a red polo shirt that sported an NC State University logo on the right chest. Deep brown eyes crinkled with a smile. “How long’s it been, man? Three months?”

Three months. Casey’s jaw slackened. Whoever these people were, they were close to Travis, yet they hadn’t seen him in three months. The same time he’d walked away from her.

The timing was too perfect to be a coincidence.

She shoved her chair from the table with a scrape on the concrete floor. This was a chance to edge closer to the truth. Smiling, she extended her hand to the woman. “Yes, I’m Casey Jordan.”

Travis stared, wearing one of those slightly guilty expressions, as though he’d gotten caught at something Casey couldn’t quite puzzle out. The wheels turning in his head were practically audible.

“So good to finally meet you. This is my husband, Phil.” The woman took Casey’s hand warmly, but then her grip tightened and she pulled Casey toward her, her eyebrow arching in amusement. Her smile widened and she glanced at Travis as she wrapped her other hand around Casey’s. “Do tell, Travis. I thought the two of you had split.”

Casey arched her own eyebrow at Travis and smiled. Rarely did he get rattled, but he was right now. This could be interesting and definitely better than everything else they could find to discuss this afternoon.

Yes, Travis. Do tell.

* * *