This is a good chapter to remind readers of the mature warning.
Ghosts That Haunt—46
In the sudden brightness, Riah whirled to face him, blinked. While Casey waited for her to adjust to the light, he leaned forward and set his glass on the coffee table next to the bottle of scotch and his discarded tie, holster and weapon. Her face was wary, exhausted, and he recognized the signs she hadn't slept at all.
"Think we could try this again?" he asked.
One advantage—or maybe disadvantage—of her obvious lack of sleep was that her expressions weren't at all hard to read. She looked like she was about to refuse. Part of that might be the fact that he had taken her by surprise. Still, he felt a hint of resignation over the simmering anger he saw there. He didn't relax when she finally walked toward him and sat on the sofa. That was only partly because this time she sat a little closer to him and didn't take up a defensive position as she had earlier.
It was do or die, and he'd spent the last few hours sorting through what he needed to say and how to say it, especially since time was rapidly running out. He fixed his hopes on that very first reaction of hers when he'd arrived, drew in a deep breath, and met her unhappy gaze. He'd start with what he hoped remained obvious: "Riah, I love you." Her face paled, but this time she more successfully hid her reaction. "That hasn't changed." He turned a little more toward her, watched as she looped hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. That momentary tremor encouraged him. "I want you to come home."
She breathed in, held it, and bit at her lower lip. She looked as though she was about to cry, and Casey didn't think he could take that. "I can't, John," she finally choked out.
"Why?" He didn't bother to hide the anger and pain that particular rejection made him feel.
His response made her flinch, which set his temper off. Not once had he ever physically hurt her, but that made him think she might believe he would. He tried to hold back the rest, struggled not to launch into the inevitable argument, but then she reminded him softly, "I can't enter the United States, John."
Casey's face blanked a moment. He had forgotten she wasn't allowed to cross the border. That took the fight out of him, especially since her tone hadn't been angry. He studied her, noted she simply seemed sad, that the anger he'd seen had been replaced with something more like pain, and he softened his own voice to ask, "What if that changed?"
"I'd be on the first flight out of Ottawa," she said without hesitation, and that made the kind of unfamiliar hope he'd long learned to distrust well. "I love you, too, John. That didn't change. That's one of the reasons I worked so hard to prove you weren't Alexander Coburn. I wanted to make sure they couldn't nullify our marriage because I'm not quite ready to let you go."
It wasn't easy to tell how she meant that. Her voice had remained uninflected, so he searched her eyes, sought softness, but it wasn't there. He supposed he could understand that. After all, as she had just said, she had worked hard to learn what he should have told her, and he feared she wasn't quite ready to forgive him even if she wasn't ready to send him packing.
He considered his options. Words usually got him in trouble, and he knew even one verbal misstep would have her kicking him out the door and sealing it closed behind him. He thought hard, and then, for some reason, he remembered the night he confronted her over her having asked her father to recall her.
That tactic was risky, but he decided that since it worked once, it might work again. He had to get her to crack, and until she did, he wasn't sure she'd really listen to what he needed to tell her.
Gathering his courage, he sat forward, turned more fully toward her, and calculated whether she would let him do it or whether she'd take his head off. A wary expression crept onto her face. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he slowly reached out and lifted her left hand from her lap. He simply held it, and when she didn't protest, he ran his thumb over her knuckles and eyed her wedding and engagement rings. "I'm nowhere near ready to let you go," he told her in a soft, firm voice and lifted her hand.
Her eyes closed when he pressed his mouth to her palm. She breathed his name, and he tugged her closer. She came willingly when he pulled her into his arms. "I've missed you," he whispered and put his mouth to hers. Her lips parted, and she cupped his face, spread her fingers along his jaw.
"I missed you, too," she whispered when their mouths parted before she leaned in and kissed him again.
So talking was overrated, he decided as he drew her into his lap, deepened the kiss. Eventually he would have to do it, but it could wait. As long as Riah didn't come to her senses too soon, he figured she'd be much more willing to give him the benefit of the doubt after he reminded her of the one thing they never got wrong. Riah's hands went to his shoulders, stroked over the crisp cotton of his shirt. As the kiss heated, she started pushing buttons from their holes, slid her hands inside his shirt and along his skin. Casey moved one of his hands from her waist and trailed it slowly down her hip, her thigh, and found the slit in her gown before he slid it onto the smooth skin of her calf. He let his hand glide back up her calf, over her knee, up her thigh, and she moaned.
"God, I love that you don't wear underwear to bed," he groaned, and she smiled before she pulled his mouth back to hers.
She tugged his shirt free of his trousers, stroked it off him, and then she reached for his belt. Obviously, she was of a like mind, was willing to suspend the discussion for action, so Casey shifted his legs beneath her and toed off his shoes. After all, he stood to benefit by accommodating her, and by actively helping her get his clothes off, he could get around to the kind of earnest appeasement he hoped would gain him enough good will that she'd listen to his explanations.
Solely in the interest of reestablishing peace with his wife, he ran both his hands beneath the silk of her nightgown and let them skim to her hips as she moved, straddled him, and began working on the fasteners of his trousers. He helped her shove them and his boxers down and then wondered if he had miscalculated his ability to control this when Riah slid tightly up against him. She ground against him, and he wound his fingers in her hair, tugged slightly to gain access.
Riah tilted her head back as he kissed down her throat. She lifted, took him inside her. Always willing to oblige, he thrust up into her, and her moan forced a grin out of him. It disappeared when it occurred to him that she might be simply taking what she wanted before she kicked him out. She gripped his shoulders as she lifted and sank over him, and the hand not tangled in her hair gripped her hip, helped her. Her mouth caught his hard, her teeth bit at his lower lip, and he decided that if she was trying to punish him, he'd take it. For a while, all thought left him, and he simply concentrated on how she felt around him, against him, over him. He focused on her, on the rhythm she set, on her movements, and just as she came undone and he was about to follow her, he gritted against her ear, "Only you, Riah," and then he fell.
As he waited for his breath to return to normal, he felt her lean into him. Casey rolled his head so that his mouth brushed just below her ear. Riah turned her head, and he gave her a soft, gentle kiss. His hands moved, and he stroked her gown up. She shifted so he could take it over her head and arms before he tossed it over the back of the couch.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and relaxed into him, and though he would have liked to take a good look at her, he was in no mood to protest. He was naked—if he didn't count his socks and his pants around his ankles—so it wasn't right that she had remained covered. Besides, he wanted to touch her, wanted to feel the heated softness of her skin against his. "It's only fair," he murmured as he palmed a breast and kissed his way down her throat. She arched so he could kiss along her skin, trail his mouth to her breast, to her nipple. Riah's hands cradled his head to her, and her eyes slid closed.
He tried not to be a smug bastard. He was now more certain he could win her back, especially when her breath hitched and she breathed, "By all means. Let's be fair."
Grunting a soft laugh against her breast, Casey shifted his hold on her and rolled her off him so that she was on her back on the sofa cushions. He pushed his pants the rest of the way off and shed his socks before he covered her with his body, whispered kisses over her face. She stroked a foot along his calf. "The last time we made love on a couch, it was Christmas," she said softly.
The reminder dented his mood. He wondered if she intentionally pointed out that he had had to defuse her anger at his abandonment of her that night. The circumstances had been different then, he thought as he cradled her jaw in his hand, but the parallels between that night and this one didn't escape him. He had had to explain both his actions and his feelings to her then, too.
But not yet, he decided. He caught her mouth, kissed her thoroughly. "We've got to stop reuniting like this, Mrs. Casey."
For some reason, that made her laugh, and something loosened in Casey. He sincerely hoped that laugh meant she was most of the way to forgiving him. Riah's body lifted, rubbed against him. "I don't know, Colonel," she purred, "I kind of like the way we come back together sometimes." Casey gave her another kiss, stroked a hand down to her hip and onto the thigh pressed against his own hip. "But I would really like to stop the splitting up part."
This time, when he kissed her, he put what he felt into it, tried to convey how much he loved her, how sorry he was for not having told her what he should have. "No splitting up, Riah," he whispered as he met her eyes. "That I promise. You're stuck with me unless you or someone else kills me."
Her smile was broad, and then she laughed. "I'm now very glad we used the traditional marriage vows when we got married, John, since that's the uniquely you kind of promise my father would never be able to let us live down."
Casey took no offense at her comment, especially since the shadows were gone from her eyes and face. Unfortunately, he was going to have to put them back. He took her mouth again, and she moved beneath him in ways that had him once more considering putting it all off, had him thinking that if he could just keep her physically happy she might let him off the hook without having to talk.
But then it would simply fester, he knew, so he pressed another soft kiss on her mouth. "Unfortunately," he added gruffly, seizing on her previous comment about naked reunions on couches, "I will have to leave you alone sometimes because of the job."
"What's really going on, John?"
He hesitated. Her question, unlike his observation, wasn't about their future; it was about how she'd wound up in Canada working for ISI again, about how she had been told she was no longer a US citizen and no longer married to him. He shouldn't tell her, because at the moment she was a foreign spy again, but when her face shut down once more, when she swallowed before lifting to press a too-brief kiss on his mouth before she told him, "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked that," he decided to violate his oaths and orders and explain anyway.
"No," he agreed, since she shouldn't have, and then he shifted his weight and rolled toward the back of the couch. He lay on his side and drew her against him. She looked up at him. "It's a very long story, Riah, but the short version is that John Casey died, became Alex Coburn, Coburn supposedly died, and Casey was resurrected. From there, it was playing out a long-term game. Basically, I did what I was accused of, then I killed Keller, and people at a higher pay grade decided it was time for me to be a civilian again."
"Beckman," she said.
He rewarded her with a brief kiss. "You were deported, in part, to keep you and Victoria safe."
She looked like she didn't quite follow him.
Casey chose his words carefully. "No one's sure who is who these days. We don't know if the Ring is the end of this or just another piece of a larger puzzle." He cradled her jaw and blurted the part that had stunned him. "Bartowski killed Shaw in Paris." When she gasped softly, obviously found it hard to believe Chuck capable of that, he told her the part neither Bartowski nor Walker yet knew because it was one of the reasons he wasn't going to insist she be allowed to return to L.A. with him: "It seems Shaw might still be alive."
Stopping there, he considered how to explain the rest of the web of deception to her. Before he could organize his explanation, she prompted in a whisper, "This other game."
Riah wasn't stupid. It was one of the things he loved most about her, and he was thankful for the assist. He was telling her things that could put all of them in jeopardy, but she had to trust him going forward, so he confessed, "Paul Patterson. The Marines were after Keller long before the intelligence services had him on their radar. Patterson thought that after Keller's blackmail, the Ring might make a separate approach. They had to believe I'd lost everything. They had to believe you and I were finished, that you were punishing me for Kathleen."
For a moment, he stiffened in a sort of full-body wince. He should have left Kathleen's name out of it until he had the rest of it explained. He steeled himself for her reaction. When it came, it wasn't at all what he would have predicted.
"I shouldn't have meddled," she breathed.
Casey realized she was upset that her clandestine investigation might have done harm. Then he gave her a thankful kiss, realized that the fact she knew the story—or most of it—might account for why she was wrapped naked around him instead of pointing his SIG at his head, this time with the intent of killing him instead of getting him to make love to her. "Actually, it worked in my favor."
Riah shifted closer to him, wrapped an arm around his waist. "John—"
His mouth against hers stopped her protest, whatever it was going to be. He considered that kiss a preemptive strike given what he had to tell her next. "You're staying out of this, Riah, staying where you and Victoria will be safe. The fact that you claimed you were trying to prove I was Alex Coburn so you could divorce me was pretty persuasive, especially since the agencies you approached confirmed it."
She blushed before admitting, "I couldn't think of any other way to get what I wanted. Word had already gone around about what you had done, that I'd been deported and the marriage nullified. I just had to hint that I needed confirmation to make sure you were out of my life, and most of them turned over what I wanted."
He'd been stunned by the level of detail she'd been able to acquire on him, and looking at her, he wondered if she'd learned more that wasn't actually in the report she'd given her father. There was something in her expression that said she was embarrassed, and he nearly asked her then what she might have learned to cause that look. He let it go, though, when she ran a hand up and cupped his cheek, stroked her thumb softly over his lower lip, and admitted, "I don't know if that was due to owing my father or due to some sort of schadenfreude at your apparent fall from grace, but it got them to turn over what I needed."
It was probably the last, Casey knew, especially since he had made far more enemies in his career than friends among the agencies who had contributed to his wife's investigation. He kissed her before he told her acerbically, "I've never exactly been the win friends and influence people type."
Unexpectedly, Riah grinned at that. "No, you're more the shoot people and intimidate them type."
He shot a brow up, relaxed a little. If she was willing to joke, he was certain she would forgive him, so he growled back at her, "I didn't shoot you, and you certainly didn't intimidate well. I was beginning to think I'd lost my touch."
She shot a brow of her own up. "I just recognized your inner teddy bear."
The recoil from that remark took him by surprise. It was a little too close to what Ilsa had called him, and the last thing he wanted at the moment was to remind Riah of the Frenchwoman. His wife paled. He watched, wondered if he would have to defend himself on that front again. He realized she looked guilty, that she was sorry to have reminded him of that. Before he could tell her it was alright, she pulled him down and kissed him. He opened his mouth, and she invaded. He rolled her beneath him, and neither of them said anything more for a good long time. This time, Casey decided needy wasn't the right note, so he did as he had done after the mess with Val. He made love to her, made each touch, each kiss a promise, and when she lay twined against him and he was on the edge of sleep, he was glad she had done the same in return.
Victoria woke them about six. Casey was already slowly coming awake since he was conditioned to early rising. Riah began to untangle herself from him and from the quilt he had unfolded from the end of the couch over them. "Bring her back," he muttered sleepily. She scooped up his shirt and pulled it on, fastened the buttons as she walked toward Victoria's room.
His wife was gone for a while, but Victoria was quiet again. He considered going to see where they were, what they were doing, but just as he finally decided to do so, Riah walked back into the living room with their daughter. Sitting up, Casey made room for her to sit beside him. He pulled Riah back against him as she partially unbuttoned his shirt and began to nurse their daughter. "She's grown," he observed. Victoria had been a long, thin newborn, but now she was kind of roly-poly.
"She's put some weight on," Riah agreed, "but I was kind of pudgy at that age, too. I imagine she'll slim out again. Based on Emma and me, she'll probably remain relatively thin through most of her adolescence and early adulthood." Riah's hand smoothed over Victoria's cheek. "I think she'll be tall like you, though."
Curious, he eyed Victoria, wondered how she might know, but Riah didn't offer an explanation, and he didn't ask.
Casey reached around and stroked his daughter's soft, downy head. "She looks bald," he said, stroking the fine, white-blonde hair. Victoria had had what looked like a lot of dark hair when she was born. She still had a lot of hair, but because it was fine and pale, he had to look closely to even see it.
He pressed his lips against the side of Riah's neck. "I've missed this," he murmured against her ear. She turned her head, and he kissed her. "I've missed you both."
When Victoria finished, Riah handed her to him. She stood, walked once more toward Victoria's room without an explanation. Casey met his daughter's eyes and said, "At least your mom's talking to me." Victoria gave him a toothless grin and smacked the back of a tiny hand against his bare chest. He arched a brow and told her, "Clearly we need to get you back to the States and away from the savage Canadians." His daughter made a kind of giggle noise. Despite the fact he was certain she had no idea what he'd just said, he decided it showed her intelligence. Before he could add more, Riah returned to the living room with a small pile of clothes. She took Victoria from him, changed her, and dressed her before she deposited her back in his arms.
"Thanks for cleaning up last night," she said.
Casey's guard went up. He eyed her, wondered if the space she'd put between them meant she regretted giving in last night before he had finished his explanations. He shrugged off her thanks. "Gave me something to do since I couldn't sleep."
When Riah leaned against his shoulder, he freed his arm to slide it around her and pulled her closer. He considered how to ease into their unfinished conversation, but
before he could, she asked, "How're Chuck and Ellie?"
He tensed. "Ellie's fine, though she thinks you left me because I fell off the wagon."
It wasn't hard to read his wife's amused expression. "Did you fall off the wagon?"
"Spectacularly—on our anniversary." Hurt chased across her face. He leaned over, pressed a kiss against her temple and said softly, "I should have at least called you that night, but the call would have been intercepted." He leaned back, watched her a moment. It would be easier to retreat, explain that he had kept up the Thursday night subterfuge after she was deported, but, instead, he took the harder path. "I couldn't take another moment of being without you, and I drank more scotch than I really should have to make sure I didn't call you. If Bartowski hadn't come over to ask something and his sister hadn't decided to follow him and check up on me again, I would have probably risked calling you anyway."
"I didn't go on a bender," she offered softly, "but I was miserable, too." She looked up at him. "I wanted to shoot you for not remembering."
"I remembered," he said gruffly. "I'm never forgetting that evening, Riah."
"Good thing I couldn't cross the border, then," she whispered.
Her mouth met his for a slow, soft kiss. "Next year, I'll make sure I have leave so we're together," he promised. He'd do the paperwork as soon as he got back to L.A. It was no guarantee he'd actually be free on the day, but he'd do his damnedest.
"What do you plan to do about your daughter?" Riah asked.
His wife's face was scarlet when he looked at her, and that along with her your helped him realize she meant Alexandra and not Victoria. He had given that a lot of thought, so he answered easily. "It's kinder to let her believe her father's dead at this point, don't you think?"
It was easy to see Riah's protest coming, but before he could launch into his reasons for believing so, she stopped.
While they were in Newfoundland, she had talked about growing up with Ariel and about the awkward dynamic of having her stepfather, Emma, and her mother's lovers as part of the mix. He knew Riah had never felt like she had a place in her mother's life, and he suspected that Alexandra would never really have a place in theirs. He wasn't even certain he wanted her to because he didn't want to cause his wife more pain by having a living reminder that he had failed to be honest with her around.
Casey had also considered what the girl would think if he told her he was her father. He didn't want her to think Kathleen had lied about what had happened to him. Alexandra had spent her entire life believing her father was dead, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't like him, someone she didn't know, turning up to tell her what she had been told wasn't true at all. If he did so, he suspected Alexandra would feel betrayed, might never trust her mother again, and then there he'd be, this stranger who had apparently not given a damn about her for her entire life. He couldn't imagine how she could ever be comfortable with him and figured she'd be suspicious about why he had suddenly decided to confess his identity.
It wasn't until Riah slipped an arm around him that he pushed those thoughts out. He looked at her. "Perhaps it is," she agreed. Then she asked, "But what about you?"
Instinct nearly made him deflect her question, change the subject, but he didn't. On the one hand, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to introduce himself to Alexandra McHugh. On the other, he couldn't help a bit of curiosity about her, about what she was like.
It was entirely moot. He was never going to be a permanent part of her life. Even if he did meet her, she was an adult with a life of her own. He studied his wife, saw her worry and concern, and asked, "Riah, do you want a stepdaughter around, one nearly as old as you are?"
She wasn't quick enough to guard her expression, and he saw a kind of horror there before her spy face slotted into place. "John, I love you, but this isn't about me."
While he appreciated that, he knew it was as much about her as it was about him. She'd have to live with whatever he decided, and that meant she got a say. As a result, he pointed out, "That wasn't an answer."
"Nor was your question."
That was a fair observation, he reflected. He thought about it a moment and decided to give her the complete truth. "I could have kept up with Kathleen, and there were times when I was tempted to see where she was, how she was, but I didn't." Riah paled again. "It wasn't to avoid arousing suspicion. It was because I didn't want to know. I could push her to the background, relegate her to memory as long as I didn't know. I think this, I think the girl, falls into the same category."
As he watched her, waited for her to say something, he realized he couldn't—or wouldn't—say his other daughter's name even though he could think it. Perhaps it was what allowed him to keep her in the background, put her out of sight, out of mind just as he had done with her mother.
Riah, though, apparently decided to drop the subject. She offered to fix breakfast, and he gave her a look, one that told her food was not high on his priority list. She melted under his heated stare. Their daughter was awake, would be so for a while, though, he knew, so they would have to wait. That didn't stop her from pulling him down and kissing him a promise.
"What do you do with Victoria when you go to work?" he asked.
She told him about Isobel Gerrard and their arrangement to insure their daughter was regularly fed. Casey was amused by the idea of Izzie as a nanny. Of course if someone other than Riah had to watch his daughter, he'd prefer she be someone as lethal as Izzie. Riah blushed as she explained that her boss trusted her more than the other analysts and had begun sending highly sensitive material to her. Casey wanted to ask what, but he didn't, listened instead to her explanation that she had begun pumping breast milk for Izzie to feed Victoria since she couldn't always be available.
Casey wanted her available to him since they still had things to talk about and since he planned to exploit the promise in her last kiss, so he leaned toward her, kissed her hungrily. "Do you have to work today?"
It was easy to see she was tempted, but she apparently wouldn't abuse her boss's trust since she admitted, "I'm supposed to, yes."
He doubted she had ever called in sick, and he decided to see if he could corrupt her, especially since he was pretty sure she wanted to stay home with him. So he told her, "Don't," when he had kissed her once more.
"I'm in the middle of something important," she explained, so he took her mouth again, worked to see if he could make her forget what that was. He shifted his mouth to that spot below her ear, the one he generally exploited because she generally turned to mush when he did, and he was disgustingly pleased when he heard her breathe a moan just as her hands discovered he was still naked beneath the quilt.
The sound of a key in the door lock had Riah cursing quietly and trying to pry herself out of Casey's arms. He was going to shoot V. H. on general principle, he decided, glad the SIG was within reach. He tightened his grip on his wife to keep her where she was.
Casey wasn't sure whether to be glad or furious that instead of V. H., Izzie was the one who strolled into the living room. He muttered for Riah to be still since her move to get up threatened to dislodge the quilt covering him. As a result, Riah went crimson and tugged his shirt down to cover herself. He failed to point out it was still partially unbuttoned from feeding their daughter.
Izzie, on the other hand, was clearly amused. She looked at Riah. "V. H. called and told me you had company," she told his wife. "He also suggested you might like a day off. You're not to go in today. He told Dave Victoria's got a sniffle." As he watched her set her bag down and step toward them, he considered forgiving her since she brought that bit of good news. Her look turned mocking as she greeted him. "Casey."
"Izzie," he returned guardedly, aware Riah now eyed him suspiciously.
"V. H. had a message for you as well," the older woman said cheerfully. One of Casey's brows shot up. "He said to remind you to do more than molest his daughter today." Returning her attention to Riah, she added, "I'll take Victoria to do some shopping. We'll be gone for a couple of hours. If you want more time alone with Casey, we can decide what to do then."
When Victoria had been bundled into a coat and hat and buckled into her stroller, Izzie wheeled her out of the apartment, leaving them alone. Riah looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Izzie?"
He blushed, to her obvious amusement. He hoped she was still amused when he explained. "We did a job together once. Trust me, you don't want to know."
Her lips twitched, but her eyes were cold. "Actually, that just makes me want to know more."
So he told her. "We were in Windsor. Your dad and Izzie needed to get some documents out of a strip club safe. The owner spied for the Chinese, and the goon who ran the place was suspicious. He kept eyeing Izzie. We weren't sure how to get past him and his muscle, but then your dad whispered to Izzie that she should just pretend to audition as a stripper. Izzie pointed out they'd make her take her clothes off, and your dad dared her to do it." Casey vividly remembered the eye-popping show Izzie put on as she stripped down to her holster and a pair of panties that had proven nearly as obscene as some of his wife's.
"Did she?" Riah asked faintly.
Casey grinned, nearly regretted it when his wife's eyes narrowed. "It provided a distraction so we could get the job done."
It was obvious she was trying to figure out if he and Izzie had had a thing.
"Izzie loved her husband, Riah, and she never had eyes for anyone but Don Gerrard."
"That sounds like you would have been interested if she hadn't," she said in a voice that could have given him frostbite.
"Izzie's still a good-looking woman, Riah," he told her, even though he knew it was the wrong thing to say, and warily watched her reaction. "She was even more so then, but all I ever did was look."
V. H., he reflected, had tried to more than look.
In the face of her obvious doubt, Casey met her eyes, held her gaze and said quite clearly, "I mean it, Riah. You. Only you."
"I need you to tell me, John," she said quietly.
This was the part where he had to talk—and not about Izzie. He knew he couldn't avoid it any longer. He explained about his life as Alex Coburn, figured it was fair game rather than a state secret since she knew the basic facts. He explained about meeting Kathleen, he described their courtship, he told Riah about proposing to her in Buffalo, and he told her about leaving Kathleen behind. He told Riah again how he had chosen not to keep tabs on her, admitted it was because he had been afraid of what he might do if he knew about her and her life, even from a distance.
There was a moment when he was sure that had been a mistake since Riah's face went hard and pale and her eyes turned stormy. She didn't say a word, though, so he continued, told her again he hadn't known about the girl, didn't know what he would have done had he known, and then he told Riah yet again that he loved her and Victoria, and that none of this changed that. He was happy where he was, happy with her and with their daughter.
When she simply sat there and looked at him, he didn't know what to do or say. He waited. Just as he was about to give in and plead his case, convince her not to throw him out, she let out a shaky sigh and asked, "Is that all of it?"
Instead of speaking, he nodded, never once took his eyes from hers.
"Is there anything else you haven't told me that I need to know?"
It was a loaded question, one he wasn't sure he could honestly answer, but he decided he had to. He sifted through his prior relationships—most of which couldn't really be called that—and started explaining. It was probably better to tell her than to have her find out. Even as he thought that, he realized she might already know, depending on what had been in the files she'd talked those other agencies into providing.
When he finished, she looked considerably less hostile, but she certainly didn't look happy. Finally, she breathed deeply, and said, "Okay."
He cocked his head, frowned at her. What did that mean?
She apparently recognized her response was lacking. "I want a particular promise from you, John."
"Depending on what it is, Riah, you know I might not be able to keep it," he said cautiously.
"This one you can," she assured him. He waited again. After a moment, she told him, "I want your promise that this is it. I want your promise that there will be no more surprises like these, that there's nothing else in your past that will either separate us or allow someone to separate us."
For a second he considered asking about her own past, but he was pretty sure he knew the ghosts that still lurked in her particular closet. "I promise," he told her. "There aren't any others." He pulled her close and added, "I need a promise from you."
Baffled, she leaned away from him. "Alright."
"On the off chance I forgot something, I need you to promise me that if something else comes up, you'll hear me out before you do anything."
Her body relaxed. "I promise." Her face was solemn. "I suppose I should add a caveat to all these promises."
His brow cranked up.
She chewed her lower lip a bit. "Obviously, there weren't other men, and I can't say I had any relationships that might have blowback like this, but I also can't promise there aren't things I don't remember or don't know that might cause problems on my end."
Her obvious concern had Casey leaning in to kiss her. "Understood," he said softly. Her arms went around him again. "Think we could continue this in your bedroom?"
They gathered their clothes, and Casey made a detour to grab his bag. Riah took his now rumpled suit and hung it in the closet. When she closed the closet door, she found him holding the photograph Ellie had taken of the two of them. "When you were in the hospital," he said quietly, "I was surprised to see this."
"I asked Ellie for it after you had gone," she told him. "I brought it with me, but I decided to leave it here."
He sat the photograph back on her dresser and pulled her against him. "I have the other one from that day in my bag," he told her. "I've carried it with me since Beckman reassigned me."
"I wondered what happened to it."
"My mother thought I was robbing the cradle when I showed it to her."
She ran her hands up his bare chest, but Casey worried when she didn't smile. She met his eyes. "You know, Jane was the main reason I didn't believe what they told me."
He tilted his head to one side. "Yeah?"
Riah nodded. "I couldn't believe a whole family, a whole town, for that matter, would play along with your cover. Besides, your mother strikes me as a very no-nonsense kind of woman."
It was true, and probably partly why he was the way he was. Since they were on things they hadn't expected, he said, "V. H. showed me the report you gave him. How did you get those records from Costa Gravas?"
Color crept up his wife's face. "I asked for them." He stared at her, astonished. Goya might have thanked him for saving his life, but the commie bastard was unlikely to have helped his wife on Casey's behalf. She went on to explain, "Antonio Suarez and I know each other well. He and I worked Goya's protection detail together more than once. I asked him if I could see the Generalissimo when he was here last month. Goya told me to let it go, though he did concede he found it hard to believe you would do what you stood accused of doing. Two days later, Suarez gave me their dossier on you and the file on Coburn's death."
Casey's brow cocked. "How many intelligence agencies did you persuade to give you my files?"
She obviously heard the testy note in his voice. "Seven," she told him. "Three others volunteered." Then she confessed. "I stole ISI's."
He was definitely testy when he asked, "Learn anything interesting?"
Riah suddenly grinned. "If I tell you, I have to kill you—I promised."
Pulling her closer, he ran a hand inside the still partially unbuttoned shirt she wore and cupped her breast. "Perhaps I can get it out of you another way."
She quirked a brow. "Do your worst," but then she smiled and added, "or best."
From the boneless way she lay against him—not to mention the sounds she had offered up while he made love to her, he had definitely done some of his best work. "Well?" he asked sleepily.
"I got confirmation of some of your kills."
Casey snorted. "That all?"
She rolled her head to look at him. "I got a rather interesting list of conquests." She raised her brows, named a notorious female former European head of state who had not been on Casey's list and asked, "Really?"
He went crimson. Riah's lips twitched. "You don't have to tell me," she said with a grin.
"Actually, I think I do," he assured her and did so. He told her how he had courted the woman in order to find out if she was going to sell out her country and its allies to what was left of the Soviets. He told her because he didn't want her to tear into him if she heard a version of the story that misled her into believing he'd lied about coming clean earlier. She hadn't really ripped into him over Kathleen—but she certainly had retaliated over Ilsa. He had honestly expected her to take several hunks out of him this time since she had paid a price for his past. Considering she hadn't even been a schoolgirl, when this particular episode occurred, he didn't think she could legitimately take offense, nor did she.
"I was surprised to learn you were the one who put the bullet in Ricardo Viejo in Plato Caliente." Her father had protected Viejo's rival, Ernesto Roja once. Viejo had temporarily overthrown Roja, and Casey had been sent in to see what he could do since Roja was a friend of the U.S. "It was a hell of a shot."
That was too close to Alex Coburn for Casey's comfort. "We all have our skill set," he said without inflection. He palmed her breast. "If I were to get your files from other agencies, what surprises would I learn?"
She snorted. "Probably nothing. I had no lovers before you, and I haven't done much as an operative."
Casey murmured against her shoulder, "Izzie will be back soon."
Riah pulled his mouth to hers and set about doing some rather fine work of her own.
When Izzie brought Victoria back, Casey sat at the bar with coffee and Riah's morning copy of the Globe and Mail while she finished preparing his breakfast. She slid an omelet in front of him and asked Izzie if she wanted something. The other woman declined, and Riah finished preparing her own breakfast while Izzie lifted Victoria from the stroller and removed her outer garments. Casey took the baby from her and told her they could manage. When Izzie was gone, Riah sat beside him while they finished eating.
"So what are you supposed to do today other than molest me?" she asked, a small smile curving her lips.
"Your father is a bad influence on you," he growled.
Riah leaned in and kissed him. "He thinks you're the bad influence on me," she told him.
Casey snorted. There was no harm in telling her what her father's orders had been, so he did. "I'm supposed to convince you to take me back. Your father promised to shoot me if I didn't make you happy again."
"John, I love you. All I've wanted is to go home to you." For a moment, she looked unhappy again, and Casey realized he felt the same way.
"You can't come home, Riah, not yet."
"When?" she asked.
If he had his way, they'd already be in Echo Park, but it wasn't his decision to make. There were real risks in taking them home, and much as he hated to admit it, V. H. was better positioned to protect Riah and Victoria. "When it's over." To stop her protest, he added, "Your father and I—Beckman, too—agree that keeping you away and keeping you under your father's protection gives me one less thing to worry about. I've got to manage Bartowski, Walker, Grimes, Bartowski's sister and Woodcomb, not to mention watch for Shaw."
"Morgan?" she asked incredulously.
Casey sighed a heavy, pained sigh. Riah sat and stared at him as he explained how the idiot had learned Chuck's secret and how Casey had blackmailed Beckman into making Grimes part of the team. When he finished, she looked dumbfounded. "I know what you're thinking," he said softly, "and believe me, you're right, but the little weasel has actually been useful."
She picked up her orange juice, sipped. There was a shell-shocked note in her voice as she asked the question, "How?"
He told her. There was no question Grimes knew more about Bartowski than anyone other than Chuck himself, and Casey admitted he'd actually been pretty impressed by the ways in which he had helped him find Bartowski. Then he told her it was Grimes who figured out Shaw wasn't on the level.
When he finished, she stared unseeing at the cabinets across from her. Casey waited, and when she didn't respond, he leaned over and kissed her. "What's going on inside that head of yours?"
She told him, more baldly than he would have expected by asking, "What did Shaw gain by breaking up the three of you?"
Casey studied her. "He got the Intersect vulnerable and without protection."
Riah frowned. "He could have taken Chuck at any time, could have convinced him to go with him. He didn't. It has to be something else."
Casey had given a lot of thought to what Shaw had done, but he still listened as the analyst in Riah took over, wondered why. She told him she failed to see how Beckman could continue to overlook how Shaw almost always further endangered Chuck, especially since much of it could have been avoided.
Curious what she might make of Shaw with more intel, he added, "Shaw believes Walker killed his wife."
"Did she?"
It was telling that his wife didn't seem surprised. "Red test," he told her, but she simply nodded, added nothing else.
They spent time with Victoria, talking now and then when their daughter was distracted by a toy, and when she went down for a nap, Casey took Riah back to bed. She hadn't asked how long he could stay, and he had so far chosen not to tell her. The minutes ticked, though, and he intended to make the most of them.
Casey, thankful she had decided to forgive him, still risked angering her again by saying, "I'm sorry, Riah. I should have told you, but I never expected that part of my past to surface again."
She cupped his face and pulled him down for another kiss. When she let him go, he moved so that for once it was his head on her shoulder. She held him for a long time.
They got up when their daughter did, and Casey played with Victoria while Riah took care of several chores. Casey felt guilty for not helping, but when he offered, she told him to spend time with his daughter.
Riah's phone rang late that afternoon as she shoved dirty clothes in the washer, and he shamelessly eavesdropped when she answered. It wasn't hard to tell she spoke to her father, especially since he heard her snort and say, "I see you've been taking communications lessons from my husband."
From where he sprawled in the floor with Victoria, Casey frowned at her when she gave him a wide, slow smile and said, "I believe I will." There were all kinds of things that could have been a response to, but he figured it had been at his expense.
He watched her face turn thoughtful. When she told her father, "I think we'll pass," and gave Casey a smile that bordered on indecent, he should have been prepared for her follow up: "I don't know how much longer he'll be here for me to molest."
Casey grinned broadly at her, glad she wasn't inviting company since he had to leave in the early hours and intended to spend what time he had left indulging in activities that only required the two of them once their daughter was settled for the night. Given Riah had fully dressed rather than done as he had and simply covered what needed covering, he'd obviously have to inform her of the appropriate dress code.
His wife laughed at whatever her father said, and Casey wondered how to get Victoria to go to sleep early that night. "Funny you should say that," he heard Riah tell her father. "He told me the same thing—about you."
He made a face at her, one she read accurately since she mouthed bad influence at him. He caught her hand, tugged, figured he'd show V. H. what a bad influence he could be on the man's daughter, but Riah resisted and her face turned deadly serious. "We'll come to you."
As soon as she hung up, Casey rolled to a sitting position. "What was that about?"
"Dinner with Dad," she said. "His place." Casey martialed the arguments to talk her out of it. "He said we all need to talk."
"That doesn't sound good," he said.
Her lips twitched. "Consider it penance for the freedom to molest me all night."
That he could work with. "You told V. H. you were going to molest me." He gave her a grin. "I'm going to hold you to that."
Riah bent to give him a slow, hot kiss. "As soon as Victoria is in bed, I'll be at your service."
Casey was speechless when she walked away to begin getting ready.