Shadow of Doubt (An SBG Novel Book 2) (15 page)

Victor stretched his legs on the cot in solitary confinement and tried not to groan out loud. Goddamn Gay Napoleon. The little bastard had made good on his threat to “talk” later, cornering Victor in the laundry room late last night.

Victor had just wheeled a cart full of clean sheets into the storage room when sheer agony speared along his spine. His training kicked in and he whirled, but the pain slowed his reaction and he wasn’t fast enough to block the second blow from Napoleon’s metal flashlight. His cheek received the brunt of the attack and he momentarily blacked out.

Napoleon seized on his momentum and whaled on Victor, yelling all kinds of stupid shit Victor couldn’t be bothered to remember. The moment he finally got all his faculties in order he snapped.

He probably would’ve killed the little bastard if Napoleon’s guard sidekick hadn’t run into the room and pulled him off.

The vibration from the cell phone in his jumpsuit woke Victor from a daze. The memory of Gay Napoleon’s crumpled form faded as Victor lifted his head. Nothing much to see, thank God, since he only had one good eye at the moment.

He fished the phone out—another five grand deducted from his bank balance, but it was worth the bribe for the guard to overlook the bulge in his jumpsuit during the pat down. He didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.” He bit back a moan from shifting onto his side so he could hide the phone and watch the solid steel door.

“Victor, it’s Alan,”
a smooth, cultured male voice answered.

Alan fucking Bostridge. Damn, he should’ve let it go to voice mail. “Calling to gloat?”

“Partially.”

Victor blinked at the honesty. The Board of Director member of SweetBriar Group usually liked to play games. “Well, fuck off. I’ve had a shitty night and I’m not up for listening to you posture.”

“I warned you all those deaths were going to come back and bite you.”

Victor gnashed his teeth.

“I also advised you to resolve your little coup problem before it blew up in our faces. You didn’t listen to that either.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait,”
Alan rushed in an uncharacteristic move for the man.

Victor paused. “Yes?”

“What are you doing about the Senator?”

“Doing? Why would I be doing anything?”

“Don’t feed me that bullshit. If there’s one thing I learned from watching you these past five years it’s that you don’t
ever
allow someone to cross you or defy your orders without retaliation. Usually of the deadly kind.”

“Aw,” Victor oozed with feigned warmth. “I’m touched. You took the time to understand me.” He readjusted the phone to stop digging into his ear. “Kind of ironic you know this, yet, the last time we talked, you threatened to take SBG public as a private military company.”

Alan’s breathing grew heavy.
“Now, look—”

“How well do you think I reacted to some dandy on the Board telling me he’s going to shackle my authority and take away all my Black Ops contracts?” Victor forced himself to lower his voice. “With that plan, I would’ve thought you’d have jumped on the chance to work with the Senator to ensure I remain rotting in prison.”

“Yes, I did say that,”
Alan backpedaled, no longer sounding cultured, but scared.
“And I can admit I may have been hasty, but your string of deaths put
all
of us a risk. I was just trying to find a way to minimize the damage.”

“By throwing me to the wolves.”

“No. You did that yourself,”
Alan retorted, showing a little backbone.

Victor decided to reward the effort by asking, “So, why do you want to know about my plans for Senator Harris?”

“He’s got to go,”
Alan practically hissed.
“We’re a privately held and funded company. A politician should never have been able to get his hands on running the Black Ops side. He thinks running SBG gives him carte blanche to stick his nose into each board member’s other businesses.”

Before Victor could properly respond, a loud buzzing filled the air and the latch on his door sprang back.

“I’ve got to go,” Victor whispered. “While I’m not too keen to settle your schoolyard squabble, rest assured I’m working on something.”

***

Cappy stared into the empty bedroom. Sunlight cast a happy glow over the small room, shimmering particularly bright on the rumpled bed. Lust and regret punched his gut, warring for dominance.

The primal part of him demanded he race out the door and drag her back here, while luckily the larger, sensible part knew he didn’t have to rush. The cell phone he had placed in her purse took care of tracking her. He could take a moment to gather his team before he headed out . . . to drag her back here.

The bathroom door to his right opened and a waft of thick steam rolled by.

“Should’ve expected her to climb out the window,” Talon unhelpfully drawled and lounged against the doorjamb with only a towel tucked around his hips. “I mean, isn’t that now your thing together?”

“Shut it.”

The operative smirked. He had shaved and taken off the bandages, revealing black and purple bruises spanning the bridge of his nose and encompassing his eyes.

“Kinda testy this morning,” Talon poked again. “The action you got should’ve done the trick.”

Cappy whirled. “I swear to God, it’s like you’re
begging
me to pound you into the ground.” He called on all his self-control not to haul the man outside. He had larger issues to deal with than Talon’s constant picking at the scab.

Talon slid around him into the guest room they shared and hauled a duffel onto the second bed. He pulled a T-shirt out and laid it on the edge. The slogan
SOME DAYS, IT’S NOT EVEN WORTH CHEWING
THROUGH THE RESTRAI
NTS
gave Cappy a nice visual of strapping the man inside a buckled harness. The towel dropped and Cappy turned to head down the hall.

“You know”—his subordinate’s words stopped his steps—“you should talk to Romeo. Learn how to convert all that posturing and threatening into action. Maybe Sixty-Nine ran because she got tired of you
talking
about screwing her, instead of—”

“One more word,” Cappy stated in a low voice, moving back to fill the doorway. Talon paused buttoning his jeans. “No threatening. No posturing. Fact. One more sarcastic comment about this and you’ll find yourself on a hiatus from this team.”

Talon’s icy emerald eyes hardened and he lifted his chin. But he remained silent while he smoothed the deep purple T-shirt down.

“I realize your view of the world is skewed worse than usual because Wraith chose Grady. I’ve tried to be supportive, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I will kick your ass and ban you from Delta Squad if you undermine my authority or jeopardize this mission—and no, I don’t care that you think I should’ve just handed her over.”

Talon shoved a black baseball cap featuring some sports logo on his head and reached for the stash of knives piled on the nightstand. “Permission to speak?”

“If it’s within the parameters I just laid out, go ahead.”

“Where’s the checks and balances? This dictatorship you’re establishing is mighty coincidental since this mission happens to be about your girlfriend.”

“Are you telling me you think you have clear judgment at the moment?”

“Do
you
?”

A decisive rap on the front door cut off Cappy’s response. Probably for the best. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he had the clearest judgment either—sharper than Talon’s for sure, but . . .

Cappy yanked the door open and started cursing loudly in his head.

“You going to just stand there or are you going to let me in?” Senator Bob Harris snapped, straightening the black jacket of his expensive suit. A breeze had blown a small hank of the man’s still-wet black hair across his forehead. A little touch of gray had crept in, but the early-fifties politician looked years younger with his trim physique and plastic smile—well, at least in photos he looked youthful. Now he appeared ragged and ready to burst.

Cappy stepped back and motioned for the man to enter. Flanked behind him were a grim-faced Romeo, Magician—who looked like she was spitting nails—and . . . Isis? Smiling like she just won a prize.

“Cappy,” Isis oozed, moving forward and pecking his cheek. “It’s been ages.”

“Isis, I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Nobody did,” Magician muttered as she swept past Cappy.

Isis’s grin widened and she tap-tap-tapped her four-inch heels across the threshold. The woman skirted around the ugly loveseat and halted mid-step. “Good Lord,” she exclaimed, interrupting an exchange between Romeo and Talon. “What the hell happened to you? Piss off a troop of Girl Scouts attempting to sell you Thin Mints?” She clasped her hands in front of her chest. “While I agree the prices are a bit steep, they’re only trying to raise money.”

Talon scowled. “Who the fuck let
you
in?” His gaze jumped to the red marks encircling her wrists. “Allowing your latest victim to get a little rough?” His eyes slid to Romeo then back. “You should use fuzzy handcuffs. I’m sure you own a set in every color to go with your ball-gags.”

Isis dropped her arms and lifted her chin. She opened her mouth, but Romeo cut her off.

“On that note, I’ll blatantly change the subject to answer the initial question. Cappy said to come prepared with a report, so I brought Isis. She’s been with the investigation from the beginning so she’ll know what’s been found.”

Magician stood beside the Senator, but while he had his hands on his hips, glowering, she stared out the bay window.

What the hell was going on? He had never seen Romeo and Magician at odds with each other like this. Romeo across the room to be buddies with Talon while she sided with the Senator?

Isis. Had to be. The woman was a viper. An extremely good operative, though.

“Where is she?” Senator Harris asked, breaking the silence of the room.

“Where is whom?” Cappy asked, just to fuck with the guy. He may owe the Senator for bailing him and his team out, but the haughty, overbearing stature plucked his nerves.

The glower deepened. “Don’t screw with me, Cappy. I know you found Michelle. I gave you one simple directive, yet, I still had to come to
you
.”

Cappy scanned the faces of his team. Who the hell told the Senator?

“Pissed someone spilled the beans?” Senator Harris asked. “Don’t be. Ted did his job as ordered.”

Figures
. He needed to teach that boy when to put a muzzle on it.

“So?” The Senator peered toward the hallway. “Bring her out.”

Talon snorted softly. The onyx blade moving in his hands had an almost hypnotic effect as it reflected the Latin inscription in the sunlight.

“You got something to say?” Senator Harris shifted his glower to Talon.

Talon flicked a glance at Cappy.

Well, well, well. Maybe he got through that thick head for a change. Cappy nodded for his teammate to break the news.

“She’s currently in the wind,” Talon stated blandly. Twirl. Flip. Whip. The knife started back in the first position again.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Wow,” Talon retorted. “Didn’t realize the Senator with the fresh family values had such a salty mouth.”

Then again, maybe not
. Cappy could have strangled him.

The Senator’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t have needed the photo in your file. By the insolent posture and smart-alecky mouth, you’re definitely Talon.”

Talon raised an eyebrow. “Nice to meet you?”

“The file Victor has on you is about three inches thick.”

Flip. Twirl. Whip. “I’m flattered you’d take the time to get to know me from such a
trustworthy
source.”

“Talon,” Cappy snapped, “knock it off.” He pulled his phone out of the holder clipped to his belt. “It’s true, Senator. Michelle’s taken off.”

Bob Harris’s face flushed bright red. “Then why the hell are you all standing around? Get your asses out there and find her.”

Cappy swiped the phone awake. “You misunderstand. She’s not getting away. I’m just giving her the illusion she can hide from me.”

Romeo started chuckling and Isis joined in.

“What?” the Senator barked, eyeing all of them.

“Bugged her, did you?” the Echo Squad operative asked.

“Yeah. First chance I got.” He activated the tracking app.

The display pulled up a map of the world then began narrowing in like a camera lens. Anticipation in the room increased and Cappy forced himself to remain still. Finally, an address appeared.

What the fuck? He snapped his head up, scanning the room.

“What?” The Senator asked, sensing Cappy’s budding panic. “What’s wrong?”

The smiles dropped from his team’s faces as they too picked up on his mood.

He pressed Send on the phone icon in the upper corner of the app, praying he was wrong.

Loud buzzing vibrated from under the couch. “Son of a bitch.”

Magician knelt and pulled out the burner phone he had placed in Michelle’s bag back at the sleaze motel.

“You lost her,” the Senator accused, running his fingers through his hair. “How could you lose her?”

“The phone must have fallen out of her bag when she was in the midst of a full-blown PTSD episode.”

“That was a rhetorical question, Cappy,” Bob Harris snapped. “I really don’t give a shit. Do you know how to locate her now?”

Cappy stared at the phone’s screen like a moron. Son of a bitch. Dressed down by a fucking politician . . . And the man was right. That made the chastising worse.

“Ah, yeah,” Romeo said in a sheepish voice, “not to add on to the pile but you should know some dipshit in the Marshals’ office screwed up and Michelle’s face was back on the evening news last night.”

Cappy’s head snapped up.

“They were in charge of suppressing all news coverage since she’s one of theirs,” Magician added stiffly. “They’ve got it sorted out now and are in the process of getting the YouTube video yanked offline, but . . .”

“Shit.” Cappy gripped the phone until it squeaked. “So the good people in this complex just got a refresher on her face.”

“So what’s the play?” Isis asked, wedging herself between Talon and Romeo.

Talon frowned and stepped away.

“Romeo, Magician, Isis, you stay here with the Senator,” Cappy commanded, feeling the clock ticking against him.

“You want us to just sit here and twiddle our thumbs?” Isis challenged, thrusting her shoulders back.

Poor Snowman. The Echo Squad leader had his hands full with her. “Yes. None of you are dressed for scouting and tracking. You guys look like you’re about to attend a function at a country club. If you attempt to join in, you’d only draw more attention to us. Better if you stay here and keep the Senator safe.” IE. Sit on Bob Harris. The last thing he wanted was the politician getting his hands on her without Cappy present.

Romeo and Magician gave imperceptible nods. God, he loved his team. They knew exactly what his order
really
meant.

“Talon and I will split up,” Cappy continued, ignoring Isis’s simmering anger. “You”—he pointed to Talon—“take front. I’ll take back. Check in every ten minutes.”

Cappy didn’t wait for confirmation. He strode out the front door with Talon on his heels. He jogged along the side of the house and gritted his teeth at the sight of the screen lying between the cottage and bushes. Talon was right; he should’ve anticipated her reacting badly after their argument.

Chasing after her like a goddamn rookie chapped his pride like nothing he felt in a long time. This woman had him twisted so bad he should do everyone a favor and just concede. Hand over the mission to Romeo or Magician to complete while he sat on the sidelines. Bob Harris’s red face loomed in his mind. Then again, allowing that asshole full access with no one attempting to even the odds couldn’t happen.

He raced past the backs of the cottages and entered the grounds of the main apartment complex area.
If I were Michelle what would I see as the best way out?

Rows of trees lined sidewalk paths that wended their way between buildings. In the dark, with no training, she’d probably stick to the cement pathways. He jogged forward and hopped up on the sidewalk. The fall leaves on the canopy displayed their true colors with the sun peeking through as the wind shuffled them around. The crisp air made him realize she had no protection against the chill and before sunup, the temperature would’ve been cold. That would’ve slowed her even more since she wasn’t used to surviving in varied outside conditions. A bit of good news he hoped to exploit.

A section of raised sidewalk halted his steps. He bent and swiped his finger across a splotch of rusty-brown. Blood. Mostly dried but enough to tell him someone fell, probably due to the uneven path. His blood pressure spiked. Michelle? Was she okay? He scanned the surrounding area and noticed a flattened section of grass headed toward a tree. Had she rolled or something? He crouched along and spotted more small dots of blood. Christ. He did
not
want to locate her by a trail of blood left behind.

A barrage of images of her broken, bloodied condition in that shithole swamped him. Please, dear God, don’t let her injuries be even one-tenth of those.

***

Griffin jolted awake and banged his head against the side window. For a second he had no clue why he sat in a strange car, tucked among a grove of trees.

Three beeps filled his earpiece, then he remembered April Harris and her plight to find refuge in daddy’s summer home. Goddamn trust fund kids. Did they even appreciate how good they had it or did they take it for granted?

Smoking hot or not, the woman had never worked a hard day’s labor in her life. Would she look down her nose at him for crawling in the mud and other cesspools, searching for the baddies who would take her freedom? Or would she consider herself a model citizen, giving lip service to the country’s latest craze to “support the troops”? If he held up his arm and took the flesh-like cover off, would she cringe and wish he’d go away so he didn’t dash her illusion of healthy soldiers coming home as if nothing bad happened?

He cracked his neck from left to right, releasing the tension.

“Hello,”
April’s voice magnified in his Bluetooth.

“Hey, sweetheart,”
a strange male voice replied.
“Just seeing if you made it safely. Everything okay with the house?
”

“Hi, Daddy. Everything’s fine.”

“Awww. Isn’t that special,” Griffin mumbled, holding up his binoculars. “Daddy cares. Puke.”

“Stay as long as you want. I know you said you needed time alone, but are you sure? Your mother and I can be there by dinner.”

April hesitated and Griffin’s pulse picked up. The parents were a complication he didn’t need. He already had the protection detail sniffing around at different intervals to contend with. If Victor waited to give the signal until after the parents arrived, he’d have a mess to deal with. Not that Griffin cared about adding two more deaths. Someone would just become a lot richer sooner than he or she anticipated when the attorneys read the will. It was that the more people he had to strike at once, the more ways it could go sideways.

“That’s it,”
Daddy declared.
“We’re on our way. You may not have given birth to Colin but you took him into your heart like he was your son. This is too fragile of a time for you to be by yourself.”

Shit.

“No,”
April yelped.
“Sorry, Daddy. I
—
I need the solitude. It’s nice to take a break from all the media and ghouls flocking to Indianapolis.”

“Honey—”

“I mean it, Daddy.”
Pause.
“How about this? If I get too lonely, I’ll call you then, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

Griffin fought his gag reflex at all the cutesy-smootchsy I-love-you crap the call had reduced itself to before they hung up.

He rested his head against the seat and inhaled deeply, then out. He once had a woman in his life who he had spoiled rotten and loved with all his soul, but the minute he came home missing an arm and sporting a ton of bandages on his face, his fiancée declared she couldn’t handle it and left him. Just another of the many reasons he’d accepted Victor’s offer to work for SBG. It wasn’t a hard decision to go along with the man’s plan to appear dead so he could concentrate on his physical therapy and help plot the ultimate revenge.