Shadow of Doubt (An SBG Novel Book 2) (29 page)

Griffin stepped through the main automatic doors of Indiana General Hospital and pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. To the left, a large registration desk blocked an oversized set of doors with two little windows in each. From the glimpse he got, the doors led to a long hallway, teeming with staff in an array of colorful scrubs.

Those doors slowly swung open and two doctors carrying on an intense conversation strode through. By the fast clip of their steps, all was not right in their world.

Personnel hustled with their “important” tasks, and the door behind him constantly opened and closed.

No one cared about him at all. Just the way he liked it. If there was one place in the world where he wouldn’t stand out, it was a hospital. A guy with a prosthetic arm wouldn’t be looked at twice, everyone wrongly assuming he was here about that.

The flurry of activity back at the Cerise had gotten his attention. It hadn’t taken long to overhear a bunch of suits talking about the attack on Michelle’s parents. Was it a fluke, or was there another player involved? Griffin eyed the area again. He didn’t recognize anyone in the oversized waiting room to his right, nor did it feel like anyone here didn’t belong . . . Of course, that last part didn’t mean a thing. SBG operatives were trained extensively on how to blend in.

He had done everything Victor had asked, so no one else should’ve been assigned to the mission. A sliver of unease oozed down his spine. Victor hadn’t exactly had the best couple of weeks. Had the former CEO gotten wind of Griffin’s own agenda and sent someone to ensure he stayed on task?

He instantly rejected the thought. He hadn’t told a soul. The last contact he had was the text message giving him the green light to kill April and plant the envelope. That had gone without a misstep, buying him some time for this unexpected opportunity.

Then what about that phone call when he was finishing up? The Senator’s voice was unmistakable on Victor’s phone. Griffin had no answers and couldn’t stand in the lobby debating it any longer.

He slowly perused the area and found exactly what he’d hoped to find. Filling the top half of the wall panel beside the automatic doors was a map of the hospital, laid out neatly by floors. He meandered over, as if he only wanted to kill time, and studied the drawings. IGH spanned two city blocks, with multiple buildings. The main building he currently stood in was the largest and housed five floors. Three parking garages—north, south, and west—gave the hospital a new-age appearance with their skywalks connecting them to the main hospital. The rest of the buildings consisted of outpatient and specialty services.

He only cared about one department. Intensive Care Unit. He scanned each floor’s layout and found his goldmine on the fourth floor, south section. The ICU took up a lot of the south side. Two stairwells could become potential escape routes for Cappy and Michelle since two floors down, a skywalk would take them to the south parking garage. Something he’d have to account for.

Victor could screw himself if he thought Griffin would pass up this gem to take out the man who ruined his life. An inkling of fear trickled in his veins. Victor would fuck Griffin eight times as bad if this screwed up his master plan. Griffin lifted his chin. He’d have to make sure he succeeded, then disappeared, that’s all.

A small twinge gripped him at missing out on a close-quarter fight. He wanted to see Cappy’s eyes when the asshole realized exactly who killed him and why. But this unexpected twist was sure to bring the pair out of hiding and it beat having to track them down when he finally got the green light.

Griffin memorized the surrounding streets and left before anyone had a chance to approach him. He hiked his ratty backpack higher on his shoulder, then almost ripped the handle off when his prosthetic spasmed during the release. Goddamn it! Too many years of hard work and careful planning couldn’t be wasted because his goddamn hand malfunctioned.

He stormed around the block and continued weaving through the pedestrians. Once he came abreast of the southeast section, he crossed the street and started scouting for spots to hide.

His cell phone vibrated and he managed to take it out of his back pocket after two tries. A strange number he’d never seen before appeared on the screen. Take it or not?

The phone buzzed again.

Not. If in some weird world it was Victor, he didn’t need the added stress of coming up with an excuse to delay executing the latest command. His nerves were frayed enough already.

He rejected the call and pocketed the phone. A minute later the voice mail tone chimed. Whatever. Plenty of time to listen to it after he celebrated his success.

He climbed a set of stairs and set about searching for the right sight lines. Three locations later, he finally found a space in an empty office that allowed him to see almost the entire ICU waiting room through its line of windows.

He methodically assembled the sniper rifle, clearing his mind with each piece, until he reached a Zen phase. Now all he had to do was wait for Cappy and Michelle to inevitably show.

***

Wraith trekked toward the roof’s edge of the supply warehouse across the street from the hospital’s entrance. She settled into as comfortable a position as she could and peered through the rifle’s scope. She missed her original rifle fiercely. It had taken her years to alter and build the weapon into a highly honed extension of her, only to have to sacrifice it to the bomb she set off in her plight to escape Victor.

This new rifle she bought days ago felt awkward and weird. Kind of like moving into a new home. It didn’t have the same comfort as the old home, but thrilling with its endless possibilities to do so much good, yet terrifying in that she could fuck it all up . . . again.

Families, staff, and patients crowded the sidewalk near the entrance. Some were smoking, others were gabbing, while the rest hustled into and out of the building. The hospital was massive. No way could
one
sniper cover it all.

She flicked her mic feed open and spoke in a low voice. “Talon, I’m positioned to cover the entrance.”

“Check,”
came a terse reply.

Wraith rolled her eyes.
You can’t avoid “the conversation” any longer.
Her gut clenched. She swallowed and took the plunge. “Look, Talon, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Don’t, Wraith,”
Talon snapped.
“Just don’t say anything.”

“But we should ta—”

“Talk about it? Seriously. What’s left to say? I know you overheard me say I’m in love with you when Grady and I were fighting.”

Well, that answers that gnawing question
. Remorse shot through her heart at the memory of the two men duking it out in the rain over her.

“You knew how I felt and you chose Casper. I think that pretty much says everything that’s important.”

“You never let on. I never knew,” she whispered, not really seeing the people in her sights.

“And then you did.”

“You’re part of my family, T. We’ll always have that connection, but I’m not the right woman for you. You’ll find someone so much better—”

His harsh laugh in her earpiece cut her off.
“Seriously? You’re going to pull out that tired speech? Give me a fucking break. Tell your boyfriend you did your best. You get a ‘complete’ beside the ‘talk to Talon’ task. Now move on. I certainly will. I’m going silent. Just keep me updated with your visuals.”

Wraith rested her head against her hand. That went well.
Not.

Did you really expect anything less?
No. She refocused on the front of the building. “You on the ICU floor yet?”

Two clicks in her earpiece.

Meaning yes. Asshole really was going silent.

“Are there enough people for Cappy and Michelle to blend in?”

Two clicks.

“I’ll let Cappy know. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary here.”

Three clicks.

“Great. Glad you understand,” she muttered, searching for “Waldo.” The video feed from the nightclub hadn’t exactly been the best quality, so she only had generalities to go on.

Cappy stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor with Michelle and readjusted the hat on his head. “I’m going to get you back for this, Grady.”

Grady laughed in his ear.
“Hey. It was the only thing I could find in the drugstore. You gave me all of five minutes to shop. What did you expect? It was either that or a straw hat on clearance. I figured you going in like the Scarecrow may be a bit much to blend in.”

Some wiseass whistled “If I Only Had a Brain” over the channel.

If he didn’t need the offensive thing to cover his earpiece, he’d toss it in the trash where it belonged.

“Whatsa matter, Military Man?”
Wraith asked.
“Figured it’d be right up your alley.”

Grady’s laughter almost drowned out her words.
“Aww. Come on, Army,”
Grady wheezed between breaths.
“You know when you grow up you want to be a Marine.”

Cappy growled. That was the problem. While the floppy hat, reminiscent of a fisherman’s cap, wasn’t truly accurate to any of the armed services, it bore too strong a likeness to the Marine’s camouflage.

“The drugstore’s obviously not educated on who’s the more intelligent branch. Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children are definitely
not
it. Just remember, Jarhead, payback’s a bitch,” he threatened, causing another round of guffawing from the peanut gallery. Usually he wasn’t in the strike zone, so it never mattered about the comms’ visibility. His normal position was high enough to help direct the action. Not today. No way in hell was he going to allow anyone but himself to protect Michelle. This asinine stunt had about a ninety percent fuck-up rate. He wanted to be in the heart of it, making decisions on the spot to get her out.

Michelle steadily limped beside him. From a purely analytical stance, her injury was a gift. The limp changed her gait, which helped feed into her disguise. One of the hardest lessons new operators learned was that a person’s walk was as unique as a fingerprint.

“Heads up, people,” Cappy announced, gripping her bicep to halt her steps. “I’m turning Michelle’s comms on. Her mic will stay live.”

She peered up at him with wide, fear-filled eyes. He couldn’t resist kissing her forehead. “Ready?” he asked, and a chorus of
“Checks”
filled his earpiece, the others not realizing he meant the question for her.

She nodded and he powered it on. He didn’t trust she’d remember to turn on the channel if she got in trouble. He slid his hand into her cold clammy one and spotted Talon meandering down the hallway toward them. Damn. The guy’s face beneath his hat was too memorable. If he had more members to work with, he’d have used Talon as a lookout. Isis was the only other person he could call on and she was entangled with feeding them the data as it arrived at Command Central.

Behind Talon, the oversized ICU area showed a nurse’s station perched in the middle with an open expanse of windows filling the whole back wall. He spied a few chairs peeking out from the edges of the station, telling him the waiting area was underneath the windows.

Talon casually held a cell phone to his mouth as a prop, but his voice rang through Cappy’s earpiece.
“Raymond and Sonya are in position in Jim Fields’ room.”

Michelle jumped and scratched her ear.

Yeah, the first time wearing one was very uncomfortable and it took a while to get used to.

Cappy slowed their steps so as to not outpace his operative.

“Dad’s stationed in the corner room to your left,”
Talon continued his report.
“Curtains closed, so you’ll have to do a sweep by, but don’t stop. Two Marshals are mixed within the people in the waiting area.”

Shit.

“Sorry, Michelle.” Cappy squeezed her hand. “You’ll have to be satisfied with just seeing him.”

Her big bronze eyes turned up to him and the fear morphed into regret and pain.

It broke his heart. “I know you wanted to talk to him, but I can’t risk it.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, but her body language said quite the opposite.

“Talon, recon. Focus on the stairwells.”

“Check.”

His operative passed them, barely sparing them a glance. Cappy caught the bastard’s eyes straying up to the hat and smirking. Asshole.

“Sandra, we’re at the ICU ward. Move as you see fit to cover us.”

“Check.”

“Grady, Ted, you parked out of the hot zone? If this thing turns sideways, we may be coming in hot. I can’t have you trapped in the immediate area.”

“Yeah, we’re on Illinois Street, between Market and Washington. It’s a heavy shopping area. You can’t miss us. We’re parked under a red barbecue grill sticking out of the side of a restaurant. FYI, I stashed the three backpacks, as instructed. They’re at landmarks located in the north, east, and south of the hospital.”

“Check. You guys ready with the hospital’s schematics?”

“Still working on it.”

Cappy tried not to scowl as they stepped into the main area. “Work faster,” he hissed.

Michelle started moving to the left but he squeezed her hand and pulled her toward him until he could tuck her under his left arm. “Hold on a sec,” he murmured. “First rule of blending in is to act as naturally as possible. When you enter a space like this for the first time, you wouldn’t charge ahead. You’d take a second to look, then move.”

Cappy causally scanned the area and took in the bustling nurse’s station with its organized chaos, family members filling the seats beyond as well as pacing with their cell phones.

Their hallway actually split the ICU with rooms to the left and right beside them. Along the whole left wall was a line of rooms with glass walls so the nurses could keep an eye on the patients. Most had their curtains open, but a few were closed right up to their open doorways. No rooms occupied the right wall. Instead, men’s and women’s bathrooms, a supply closet, and a room marked
PRIVATE
took up the space.

Romeo stepped out of the corner room nearest them on the left and made a show of dialing his phone.

Cappy whispered, “We’re going to slowly walk toward Raymond. Be as casual and respectful as you can but peer into each room as if searching for the right one. Don’t slow down when you reach your father’s. Once we pass, we’ll head toward the bathrooms. You can pretend to be upset but don’t overdo it.”

“I don’t have to pretend,” she snipped.

He kissed her temple. “I know. You’re doing great.”

Just as he described, they strolled along his designated path. When they reached Romeo, the operative acted like he was absorbed in his fake phone call and walked right into the aisle, forcing them to stop or collide into him.

Bless the man.

Michelle didn’t even notice, her focus solely on the older gentleman hooked up to a scary amount of tubes and equipment. Magician sat in a chair just inside the doorway but positioned to see the waiting room.

“Oh,” Romeo exclaimed as if startled, “excuse me.” He cleared out of the way and resumed his “call.”

Cappy dipped his chin and gently pushed Michelle forward. In the next room, another man laid in the bed. Not as many tubes radiated from his body, and he was sound asleep. Blessedly his curtain was open and no one occupied the visitors’ chairs. Cappy paused them in front of the door as if they were there to see this guy.

Michelle’s hand covered her mouth and she trembled all over. “Oh my God,” she whimpered. “My dad looks dead.” A sob wracked her body. “Who would do that to him?”

Cappy flicked his gaze into Dad’s room again and noticed a plump, middle-aged-but-younger-than-dad woman holding his hand. Mom? If so, it would explain Michelle’s lack of concern about their age difference.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, not sure if her question was rhetorical or not.

Her shoulders shuddered and the raw anger curling in his gut spread to his limbs. Son of a bitch. He pressed her even closer. She should never have to see her father in that condition.

If he ever got his hands on the bastard who did this, he’d make sure life-saving tubes and the need for the ICU ward didn’t exist.

Urging her on, they walked in front of the windows. A few people glanced their way but none of the looks lingered. The Marshals were good; he’d give them that. If Cappy wasn’t trained at spotting what didn’t want to be seen, he’d have missed them.

For effect he soothed just loud enough to be overheard, “We should let him sleep. We can stick around for a bit to see if he wakes up.”
Please, dear God, don’t wake up,
he prayed to the man and God.

She nodded and he could’ve kissed her for taking his lead.

He continued toward an empty spot against the wall on the right side. The room with the door marked
PRIVATE
sat opposite her father’s room, giving them a good vantage point to keep tabs on who entered and exited his room.

Michelle slumped against the wall and he crowded in front of her, bracing his weight beside her head with his arm but not so much that he trapped her. He couldn’t afford to spark an episode.

Magician had done a fantastic job with Michelle’s disguise. She had managed to buy prosthetics really close to the same skin tone, and the honey-blonde wig worked with Michelle’s overall coloring. The shoulder-length waves helped hide the earpiece and wires. They didn’t need her to change her clothes since she was already covered enough to hide the throat strap.

It was Michelle, yet not at all. Fuller cheeks, a more pointed chin, and a stronger eyebrow line completely changed her facial structure.

Since no one knew or cared about him, he didn’t need to don any of the latex pieces Magician always carried for all the team members. Instead, he only needed to wear the black turtleneck and ridiculous hat.

Cappy leaned forward to stupidly place another kiss on her forehead just as a rush of wind zipped by him.

A black spot formed in the drywall inches from his head. “Shit!”