Shadow of Doubt (An SBG Novel Book 2) (31 page)

How could I miss such a sweet shot?
Griffin ran across the grassy landscape and slammed into the three-foot cement wall surrounding the South parking garage.
Fucking hand spasmed
again
!
He frantically searched the first level.

Goddamn Wraith had almost gotten him back in the office he had set up in. If he hadn’t seen that beam of light reflecting off her scope at the last second, she’d have punched his card. Surprising someone as seasoned as her would make such a rookie mistake not shielding her scope, but she’d been out of the game for too many months. Head case from what he heard.

Nothing moved. Fuck! The garage spanned almost a whole block, so either they slipped by him or were in a section he couldn’t see. He jogged along the perimeter, his empty backpack hanging limply against his back while his rifle stayed assembled but away from the street.

The hair on the back of his neck stood. He searched over his shoulder. Nothing visible, but that didn’t mean a thing. He kept running. Wraith could be anywhere. He needed to either take another shot or disappear. Hanging around too much longer would only get him dead.

***

Cappy entangled his hands into Michelle’s glorious mane and deepened the kiss. The need to consume her, to know with certainty she was okay, ruled his mind. Christ, he almost lost her. His fingers twitched and he smoothed them down her back and pulled her even closer.

The image of the serrated knife lying in the corner of the elevator . . .

The bullet hole right beside his head . . .

They
both
almost died today. He growled. While that piece of news wasn’t a new experience for him, he had never been in love with anyone before.

She stroked his tongue and he moaned. Who the hell was he kidding? Did he really think he could give her up? Just pat her on the head and wish her the best, knowing some other man would taste these lips and hold her after her nightmares? He growled again, though this time the sound was promised pain to the man who would touch her.

“Ah, yeah, call me a dick, but we don’t have time for a Hallmark moment.” Talon’s voice penetrated the vision of hauling Michelle inside the elevator and—

“We’re in deep shit,” the operative continued.

Cappy ripped his mouth away and peered over Michelle’s shoulder, breathing heavily. Romeo and Magician each gave him a knowing expression while Talon scowled.

It took a bullet and knife to make him realize he had already made his choice but hadn’t understood it until now.

Michelle turned and he made sure to stay behind her, not wanting the others to witness just how hard he was . . . But they probably already figured it out for themselves.

“You’re right,” Cappy replied, his eyes drawn to the bastard crawling out of the elevator.

Talon marched forward and grabbed Nacio’s hair just beyond the closing doors, then grinned, the image gruesome with all his bruises. “I got this. You guys go.”

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Michelle asked, lifting a hand to rub her ribs.

The molars in Cappy’s jaw lost a centimeter in his grinding. A quick bullet would be too good for the son of a bitch.

“You telling me not to after he beat the crap out of you?” Talon asked, his eyes icing over. “Granted, you also beat the shit out of him, but not enough for my taste.”

Well, what do you know? The coldhearted bastard might just be warming up to her.

Michelle frowned and bit her lip.

They didn’t have time for this and she didn’t need that kind of decision weighing on her for the rest of her life.

“We can’t risk him staying free to come after you again, nor his family to stop their in-fighting enough to properly deal with him,” Cappy stated.

“Fuck you all,” Nacio yelled, surging to his feet. He unsteadily lunged for Talon with the serrated knife gripped in his hand. “I will have my vengeance!”

Talon grabbed the guy’s wrist and twisted, forcing the knifepoint back toward Nacio.

Cappy pivoted Michelle and slammed her face into his chest just as Talon overpowered the weasel and rammed the knife into Nacio’s abdomen.

Nacio cried out, then gargled. Talon hugged the guy closer and muscled the knife higher, finding the bastard’s black heart.

The sudden silence thrummed louder than the scream.

Michelle wailed something and tried to break free, but Cappy held on. She didn’t need to see the bloody aftermath and have that nightmare on top of the others. Her fist thumped against his side but she had no power behind it.

Pain sliced his arm and the side-back window of a Hyundai exploded.

“Shot fired,” Cappy yelled, throwing his wounded arm across Michelle’s shoulders, hustling her behind a cement column. “Everyone, head to the rally point. Go silent.”

Multiple clicks filled his earpiece, letting him know the team heard. Adrenaline surged through his veins, helping to keep the pain at bay. He dipped his head and whispered as softly as he could, “Michelle, we have to be as quiet as possible. Follow my lead.”

He crouched below windshield level and scurried from car to truck. A set of fingers dug into his back pocket, assuring him she stayed right behind him.

A second shot exploded a windshield, two cars from their hunched position.

“Cappy.”
Wraith broke the silence command.
“I got him in the trigger hand. It was the only thing exposed from my angle. He’s gone. Go now. Police are on the way.”

Fuck. “Get out of here, Wraith. Don’t get caught. Grady would kick my ass.”

“Damn straight,”
Grady snarled, then turned all-business.
“The closest backpack to you is in the apartment complex across the street. In a copse of trees on the east wall of building M.”

“Check.” Cappy straightened and grabbed Michelle’s hand. Without another word, he hauled ass to the exit, bypassing the blue-barred gate preventing cars from leaving without paying.

***

Talon cleared the shards of glass off the back driver’s side window of the Hyundai and climbed through. Once he settled into the driver’s seat he called on the skills he learned from his years of living on the streets and hot-wired it within moments.

Popping the trunk, he heaved the little Colombian bastard’s body into the cavity and slammed the lid. He put all the windows down to hide the one smashed and tuned the radio to a hard rock station. Flipping the mic off on his comm, he cranked the volume.

An enthusiastic pounding beat blasted out of the stock speakers, vibrating the door panels and rumbling through his seat cushion.
Sorry-ass cheap speakers.

Whatever. As long as all the focus was on him and not Cappy and Michelle, it didn’t matter.

Backing the car out, he drove through the lot and paused at the annoying barrier. Where was—

There. He snatched the ticket with the time stamp for entering the garage off the dashboard and fed it into the machine. $7.00 flashed up on the readout.

“Rip off.”

He fished his cash out and fed a five and two ones into the slot.

Just for effect, he did some air drumming for anyone looking at the rude guy who had no couth. The gate lifted and he gunned the car forward. Pausing at the
STOP
sign, he noted he had definitely attracted some attention from a few passersby. Good. If they were staring at him, then they weren’t noticing Cappy hustling Michelle over a large grassy area toward the apartment complex across the street.

Sirens wailed with their annoying pitch. A set of cars with red and blue twirling lights turned onto the two-lane street from both the north and south directions.

He banged on the steering wheel and a set of imaginary cymbals. After one more “cymbal” crash, he pulled onto the street. About a half mile down, he pulled even with the marked car zooming toward him. Acting like the typical civilian, Talon openly gawked with his mouth wide as it raced past. His gaze flew to his review mirror and watched the cop car careen into the parking garage.

Talon breathed out. He made a left at the end of the road and went in search of the local chop shop.

The car and Ignacio Ramirez needed to disappear.

Michelle slapped a hand against the cool brick of the apartment building and sucked in as much air as possible. Her whole body trembled, and not just for her lack of being in shape.

Nacio’s last moments of gargling and gagging kept playing over and over.

Bile rose to her throat and she clapped a palm over her mouth. She had never seen anyone die before. Murdered, no less . . . Granted, the little bugger had tried to kill
her
, then forced Talon to act in self-defense, but still. He died. Raging one minute and then . . . and then . . .

She swallowed. Hard.

“Michelle,”
Jeremy said curtly, but without a biting sting. “I need you to hold it together for a little bit longer, okay?”

She nodded, peering through the line of evergreen trees planted along the whole side of the building to stare at the little bit of grass before the next line of trees up against another building.

“Sorry,” she replied hoarsely. “You’d think with my past I wouldn’t be freaked out over Nacio’s . . .”

Jeremy’s eyes softened and he paused opening the black-and-blue backpack. “I get it. You have nothing to be sorry for, but we’re still in deep shit.”

She straightened. “You’re right.” She lifted her chin. “Tell me what to—”

The faint sound of sirens from a moment ago now pierced the air. Her blood froze. “Oh God,” she exclaimed. “The police are here.”

“Yes,” Cappy agreed tightly. He whipped his black turtleneck off and tossed it at her.

She fumbled to catch it and managed to hold on by the cuff, her whole body now barely functioning properly from the pounds of HOLY FUDGE pouring through her veins. The police were on their way!

“Wipe your face as best you can,” Jeremy instructed. “The makeup’s smeared and run to the point you’d attract attention.”

“Jeremy!” she exclaimed. “You’re hurt.”

“You’re hurt?” “What happened?” “How bad?”
filled her earpiece.

“Not to sound all Monty Python, but it’s just a flesh wound. Nothing serious, people.”

She chewed on her lip, her eyes drawn to the wound.

“Really, Michelle. It’s nothing.” He peered down and grimaced. “Okay. I admit, the blood trailing from the crease doesn’t back my words, but believe me, I’ve had worse. Don’t concentrate on it. Michelle, you need to get that stuff off your face.”

Frustrated she couldn’t do anything for him, she jammed the cloth against her cheek and rubbed as best she could so they could get out of here quicker. He needed to have that wound looked at ASAP.

“Ted, Grady,” Cappy barked, sliding to the end of the building and peering around the corner toward the hospital. “I need exfil now. Police have surrounded the hospital. Only a matter of time before they start spreading out.”

“Head east to Indiana Avenue,”
Grady replied.
“The number ten bus will take you almost to our position.”

Michelle was so proud at not clawing at her ear anymore whenever someone spoke. She pulled the shirt away and grimaced at the pancake foundation filling the cloth. She swiped again for good measure but nothing more came off.

Cappy jogged back. “Shit. I forgot Indianapolis doesn’t have a subway system.” He reached into the backpack and pulled out two sweatshirts. He dropped the bag and took his turtleneck back.

“Here.” He thrust a gray sweatshirt at her. “Put this on and tuck the neck of your sweater inside its collar so it’s not seen. The color is too distinct.”

She took the sweatshirt and opened the front to see a race car with I
NDIANAPOLIS 500
bursting across the top. “But what about the throat thingy?”

Cappy ripped the arm off the turtleneck and wiped the blood off his bicep with the remains.

Michelle took the loose arm and fit it around his bicep. Her hands trembled and a coppery scent infiltrated her nose. Oh God. She was inhaling
his blood
. You know, from the wound he received while protecting
her
. Sweat broke out all over her body and she had the sudden urge to throw up. She was the cause of this.

“A little tighter,” he instructed, breaking into her spiraling panic and helping to ground her in the now. They didn’t have time for her to lose it. She cinched the cloth into a knot.

“Excellent job.” He tossed the useless turtleneck inside the pack and pawed through the contents. “Use this around your neck. That’ll cover the throat mic.”

He handed her a scarf. A very ugly scarf with muted colors she wasn’t even sure had names. Then he slapped a baseball cap on her head.

He dropped the bag again and put on a dark green sweatshirt. Another Indianapolis 500 image spread across the front, but this one had checkered flags.

She draped the scarf around her throat and grimaced at the way it scratched her skin. What the heck was the thing made of? She tried to ignore the urge to itch and pulled the hat off her head to adjust the back. The horseshoe emblem of the Indianapolis Colts adorned the front. Between the sweatshirt and the hat she was definitely projecting city pride. She gathered her hair and stuffed it through the back of the hat and fiddled with it until it sat right.

Cappy pulled a second hat out and cursed. “I swear to God, Grady. I will enjoy getting you back.”

Grady laughed.
“Ah. So you either have the pack with the Wish-You-Were-Hair cap or the pack with the oversized bill and the Mine’s-Longer-Than-Yours saying. Nice.”

Cappy growled as he shoved the black Wish-You-Were-Hair hat on his head and zipped the backpack closed.

“Like I said, you only gave me five minutes to shop. Be lucky I found this much.”

“Cappy.”
Agent Stiles’ voice broke in.
“A contingent of FBI agents have arrived along with more U.S. Marshals. They’re coordinating a search grid with the local police. Get out of there now.”

The adrenaline in Michelle’s system tripped into overload. Cappy clamped his hand around hers and she winced, her bruises protesting his tight hold. No way was she going to say a word though. If anyone could get them out of this mess, he could.

He pulled her through the trees but she dug her heels in.

“Wait,” she called.

He stopped and his eyes flashed. “We have to move.”

“I know but your throat thingy is showing.” She pointed to the black nylon strap. “Aren’t you supposed to hide it or something?”

He scowled. “Everyone, be advised I will only have my earpiece. Michelle’s right, this is too conspicuous. Pick my voice up from hers.”

A flurry of
“Checks”
and clicks returned as Cappy undid the strap and shoved it inside his sweatshirt.

“Come on.” He re-gripped her hand and set the pace. They didn’t exactly run but the walk was pretty darn close to trying. Good Lord. She really needed to start an exercise plan. His path through the complex was so convoluted she was pretty sure they circled some parts twice.

Bright-yellow school buses growled and squealed as they dropped kids at various points throughout. Pockets of middle-school-aged kids horsed around while others began their trek toward the buildings.

Cappy skillfully threaded them past a little gatehouse sitting at the entrance of the complex using the groups and chugging buses. Indiana Avenue stretched before them and a steady stream of cars passed in both directions. Jeremy continued their even pace along the sidewalk and she couldn’t help stealing a glance at every car that passed. Nothing looked out of place to her.

“Once we get to the bus stop,” Jeremy murmured, “I need for you to keep your head turned into me as much as possible. Okay?”

She nodded, her throat too dry to speak.

It didn’t take long to reach the bus stop. A long park bench claimed the middle of the area, but Cappy bypassed it. He planted his back against the fence and curled her into his embrace. The sudden peace she had in his arms was overwhelming. She ducked her head, causing the brim of her hat to lift, but she didn’t care. She refused to give up this little bit of oasis after so many terror-filled moments.

The muscles in Jeremy’s body stiffened and she lifted just enough to peek over his arm. Holy sugar. A half mile up, two cop cars cruised the avenue, one behind the other. Their lights were off but their appearance felt so ominous.

“Don’t look at them,” he whispered, his face now only inches from hers.

She knew he was trying to distract her, and for the most part it was working, but her urge to start running made her over-tired legs tingle.

The deep rumble of a bus engine growled and lumbered into view.

Fear lanced down her spine. “Jeremy, won’t there be too many people on the bus? Shouldn’t we take a cab or something?”

Jeremy nuzzled her cheek but she knew he still watched the cop cars gliding closer toward their position. “It’s a valid point, but the bigger the conveyance the more you’re largely ignored.” He feathered kisses along her temple and the tingling in her toes was no longer about fear. “A cabbie only has the passengers in his backseat to focus on whereas a bus has people getting on and off constantly.”

A loud squelch of air brakes rent the air behind her.

“The bigger problem is the potential for cameras, but it’s a risk we have to take,” Cappy finished, straightening and throwing an arm over her shoulders. “Look at the ground when you walk forward. Nowhere else. Got it?”

“Yep.” She forced herself to stare at the line in the cement separating the sidewalk blocks.

“Yo! Get in!” a female voice called.

Michelle whipped her head over to see a black BMW just behind the bus. She had seen the car before.

“Now. While we have the cover of the bus,” the voice yelled.

Isis?

The bus opened its doors and a small group stepped off. Cappy grabbed her arm and jogged through the crowd, opening the back passenger side of the BMW.

“Jump in and lay down,” Jeremy ordered.

She didn’t waste any time doing just that. She had only just glimpsed the profile of the Senator in the driver’s seat when Cappy climbed in and . . . oh dear God, laid right on top of her.

The car started moving and Jeremy rumbled something to Isis but she couldn’t make out the words.

Sweat popped along her hairline and panic edged her vision. She swallowed and tried to tell herself she was all right, but it wasn’t working. Air constricted in her lungs and she wheezed to gather a breath.

Heavy.

The weight.

A man on top of her.

Bad things happen when . . .

The body shifted and vertigo gripped her as she was flipped around.

Clothing still pressed against her cheek but instead of a crushing weight, she now felt lighter.

“Better?” a deep voice rumbled against her ear and she blinked.

Isis peered through the seats, a frown marring her face.

Michelle inched her chin up. Cappy had shifted their positions. She now lay on top of him.