by P. A. DePaul
A black four-door car idled at the intersection, waiting to turn onto his street. Even though it had no markings, it was definitely a cop car.
He fiddled with the cap’s brim. He needed to get moving. Making a dramatic show out of checking his cheap watch, he shoved his hands into his front jeans pockets and ambled up the sidewalk. He slid a peek at the Blakely’s entrance and his gaze snagged on an older couple leaving. It can’t be. The blood in his veins quickened and he squinted to be sure it was really them. The man, in his early-sixties, wore a pair of khaki pants with a light-green jacket zipped close. His hand rested on the smaller woman’s back. In her late forties, the wife was overweight but not obesely so; just kind of lumpy in the middle. Her denim pants were topped with a sweatshirt bearing some type of picture and logo, but Nacio didn’t care what it was.
The Algers were here in Indianapolis—not that that was their name anymore. He had never been able to figure out where they’d disappeared to and what their new identities were.
Holy Christ, how did he want to play this? He stayed back a few paces but followed the couple on his side of the street. Were they here to meet Michelle? Could he actually get his vengeance today? His stomach flipped. Maybe he should record his last moments with Michelle as he killed her to show his family how he avenged Uncle Ramon. None of the warring factions would hesitate to let him back in once they saw he rectified his mistake.
Laughter bubbled out of him. Stupid police. Didn’t they recognize that couple? If he had been leading this investigation, he’d have advertised their presence in town, then waited for Michelle to appear. Lucky for him the cops weren’t that smart.
He’d follow them to see if they took him to her. If not, he’d be sure to inflict enough damage to make her come to him.
Did he have his gun? He patted the bulge at his back. The untraceable revolver was still tucked in his waistband and hidden by the flannel shirt he left loose like a jacket over the hoodie.
All set. Now he just needed the opportunity.
Chapter 28
Oh my God. Michelle could barely breathe. The man standing just on the other side of Cappy all but vibrated his hatred toward her. Thank God Jeremy had intervened. The enraged bull might’ve carried out a death sentence if Cappy hadn’t stopped him.
Cold iron dug into her back and she couldn’t swallow past her heart in her throat.
Movement caught Michelle’s attention and she tracked a beautiful woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue with her trendy, spiky blond hair and perfectly tailored designer dress accentuating her curvaceous body. As Blond Spikes prowled closer, a pair of cold, calculating eyes—reminding Michelle too much of Stone Cold Killer’s—assessed her, making her skin crawl. Every instinct she had flared to life, shouting Danger and Warning.
Michelle eased closer to Jeremy, placing her hand above his back belt loop.
Blond Spikes’s eyes pinged between Cappy and Michelle, and a disapproving frown stole over her face. “You fucked her, Cappy?”
“What?” The wind flew out of Michelle’s lungs.
Cappy jerked under Michelle’s hand. “Isis.”
“It’s a simple question,” Blond B-yotch continued. “Either—”
“Silence,” Cappy snapped. His muscles bunching while his hands curled into fists. “Now.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rage Man yelled. “No wonder you tried to hide her from me. Your judgment’s been compromised.”
What. The. Hey. Hide me?
“My judgment’s fine, Senator,” Jeremy answered through clenched teeth. “As much as it chaps me to admit, she escaped.”
The ground tilted under Michelle’s feet. Senator? The shape of the man’s eyes clicked and Colin’s teasing voice from their conversation in the club drifted through her mind, My dad’s a Senator. That’s gotta impress you a little bit. Lopsided grin. Feel safe to leave with me now?
Holy crap. Senator Bob Harris stood two feet from her, exuding his desire to exact Hammurabi’s Code from every pore. An eye for an eye . . . or in her case, a death for a death.
Air refused to return to her lungs.
“We have to get out of the open,” Talon stated, his body coiled as if ready to catch her if she fainted or tried to bolt.
“Check,” Cappy said. “Since there’s not much I can do to hide the Senator’s presence at the cottage, we’ll just have to make the best of it.”
“We could park the cars in front of the first house,” Talon offered, “but use the second one for the conversation.”
Second house? And did Talon just stress the word “conversation” as if they planned for anything but? Thank God she hadn’t actually had anything to eat yet. If she had, it would probably be all over the landscaping right now.
A gorgeous woman slid to a halt between the Senator and an impossibly gorgeous man. Wow. The epically dazzling couple were almost too much to take in. Cappy beat the guy in height by a few inches, and definitely in pure muscle mass, but Gorgeous Man’s late-twenties physique seemed strong and athletic underneath his designer suit.
“We’re all set,” Gorgeous Woman stated. “We’ve now taken over the Senator’s protection detail. We can talk without outside interference.”
Nuts. Even her voice was beautiful. The long scar tracing across the left side of her face didn’t detract from her beauty; in fact, Michelle felt a kindred link to Gorgeous Woman because of it. The story behind that mark had to be special and most likely painful.
Conversations about logistics flew around Michelle. The more she paid attention, the more a few facts stood out. Apparently everyone knew about the YouTube video. Joy. Gorgeous Man specifically stated he had access to SAC Bingham . . . as in Special Agent in Charge Bingham . . . as in FBI, and Gorgeous Woman wore a shoulder holster underneath her suit just like a Fed.
Her woozy head swam.
The pecking order caught her attention, too. Gorgeous Man, Gorgeous Woman, Blond B-yotch, and Talon turned to Jeremy for direction. Even the Senator marginally listened to Cappy.
So did that mean everyone actually worked for the FBI or did they work for Cappy or had she just asked the same thing? Why hadn’t anyone tried to arrest her yet? Were they all waiting until after the “conversation” in the second cottage before they hauled her in? Was that a deal the Senator made? He got first crack before they locked her up for life?
Um. Heck no. Realizing she probably was all kinds of stupid for taking on an entire group of . . . whatevers, she needed to make a stand anyway.
Michelle leaned forward and whispered into Cappy’s ear. “I’m not getting into any vehicle.”
Cappy stiffened and whirled.
She stepped back and tripped on an uneven pile of mulch, lurching into SCK. Talon caught her shoulders and she wrapped a hand around a rail. “I’m steady now, you can let go.”
He didn’t. She wriggled to get out of his grasp, but he held firm. “What are—” She twisted to see his face, but couldn’t see much because of the hat. “Hey!”
Spots danced in front of her eyes and the wretched sounds from Colombia crept into her hearing. No. NO! She couldn’t afford to lose it now. The edges of her vision blurred and all she could feel was the iron grip on her body.
“Michelle!”
She couldn’t move. Paralysis strangled her muscle responses, not allowing her to get free from her captors. What did it matter anyway? Hadn’t she learned by now they were going to beat her until she blacked out? She held herself rigid, bracing for the next blow.
“Michelle! Stay with me. It’s Jeremy.”
“Cappy!” she cried, pushing against the tight hold. “Tell them I’m not a spy. Make them stop.”
“You’re with me.” His words acted like a saw cutting through her chains.
She thrashed her hand until she found his arm. She hung on, trying to force the fl
ashback to recede. The contact of his warm skin helped anchor her into the present.
“That’s right,” Jeremy answered in his blessedly rough voice. “You’re in Indiana. Not Colombia.”
Her heartbeat slowly dropped and she breathed out, almost crying in relief when she clearly saw Cappy’s coffee-rich irises.
“With me again?” he asked softly, cupping her cheek, his sunglasses reflecting a beam of light from on top his head.
She nodded, lifting her arm to rub her still-churning stomach only to find Talon still hadn’t let go. She glared over her shoulder at him.
He just smirked and shrugged. “Not stupid enough to allow you to nail me twice.”
A scathing retort sprang to her tongue just as Cappy spoke. “You’ve told me more than once you’re innocent. Help me prove it.”
Michelle searched his eyes. She had accused him of losing his honor and integrity and he rightfully flung it back that she hadn’t demonstrated any either. But she had been wrong. While the hierarchy and who this group reported to still remained a mystery—one she’d solve as soon as possible—Jeremy had continuously demonstrated his willingness to protect and aid an alleged felon just like he promised in the parking lot. Finding her a place to hide, not having her arrested in the middle of the night, and physically protecting her from a grieving father who planned to harm her were all the traits of a man trying to keep his word.
Her gut instinct had been to call him for help. She had to continue to trust in that no matter how much her logic wanted her to get as far away as she could.
“Okay,” Michelle finally answered. “You’re right. I promised to talk this morning and I should honor that agreement.”
Chapter 29
Cappy moved to usher Michelle forward when a tiny piece of fabric clinging to the shrub caught his attention. A low primal growl surged at the snapshot of her powder-pink underwear peeking through the black. Oh, hell no. None of these guys had the privilege of seeing that. He whipped his T-shirt over his head and held it out to her.
She startled and visibly gulped, her eyes drifting over his bare chest and snagging on the silver three-headed dragon pendant dangling from the same metal-beaded chain he used to wear with his dog tags. Pure satisfaction tripped through him and he couldn’t resist flexing his pecs.
Talon snickered, breaking the spell, and he could feel the heat claiming the tips of his ears. He probably matched Michelle’s red face. Dammit. “You can tuck it around your waist,” he grunted, dangling the shirt like an idiot, then leaned forward to clarify, “This way you can keep the dignity the bush tried so hard to take.”
She grimaced and snatched the shirt from his fingers, her blush now an even deeper shade.
Talon’s eyebrows shot up and he tipped backward, pointedly checking out her ass. A huge grin spread over the operative’s face, causing Cappy’s inner caveman to bang against his head. “Eyes front,” he growled.
Talon laughed and Michelle pinged her gaze between the two of them. The second she understood, she jabbed her elbow, but Talon easily dodged it.
The cool, crisp air helped clear Cappy’s head, and he watched her tuck the top edge into the back of her sweats and pull her own T-shirt over the top to help it stay.
“Ready?” he asked for the lack of something more suitable when she peered up at him.
She limped forward and he instantly crowded her left side. “Want me to carry you?”
“No.” She cringed.
“Gimmie a break,” Talon muttered, moving to Michelle’s other side. “Not to add a flame to this romance, but it’d be a lot quicker if you let someone carry you.” He pointed to the surrounding buildings. “We’ve been exposed too long and the Senator’s tirade could’ve enticed a lot of eyes to watch the spectacle.”
For once Cappy agreed, but he wasn’t ready to forgive the bastard for peeking at her ass, so he directed his next comment to Michelle. “I’ve done it before.” His arms were already tingling in anticipation.
“Fine.” Her skin flushed and her eyes brightened as she slid a hand around his neck. He hoisted her up and instantly had the strongest sense of déjà vu. Homecoming and bittersweet joy flooded his senses, and he hugged her closer, loving how he could actually feel her without his vest and the pockets full of crap.
Unlike the last time, this journey he craved and wished would never end. The pure scent of her filled him and he fought to keep his instant reaction hidden. She laid her head against his shoulder while uttering a soft sigh. It took all his control not to swoop in and capture it from her lips.
Way too soon they reached the SUV. Isis rode with the Senator in the BMW and the rest of them found a spot in the truck after Magician reclaimed the driver’s seat.
“How’d you get injured?” Cappy asked, pointing to her leg to fill the tense space.
She ducked her head and fiddled with her clothes. “Tripped on a raised section of the sidewalk. I didn’t see it in the dark.”
“And that led to the bushes how?” he asked, sensing more to the story.
“These three stoned guys found me and chased me when I ran away.”
The bones in his knuckles cracked, he clenched his hands so hard. “Run that by me again.”
She glanced up at him. Probably his soft, lethal tone tipped her off to his level of pissed.
“It’s nothing.” She waved a hand.
“Nothing,” he repeated. “You fall, injure yourself, and instead of helping, three men surround you, scare you so bad you run.” He inhaled to calm himself. “While bleeding. Describe them.”
Romeo turned in the front seat, crooking an eyebrow. “You planning a little retribution? Want some help?”
“Nobody’s planning or helping with anything,” Michelle inserted firmly before he had a chance to respond. “They were probably harmless. I overreacted.”
Given her history he could understand why, though it didn’t excuse them. “I doubt it.”
She rolled her eyes, but they pulled up to the cottage at that moment so he decided to let it go for now. He’d definitely ensure those harmless degenerates received a little education on how to properly treat a woman.
Cappy helped her climb out of the Suburban and kept his hand on the lumpy ridge the T-shirts made at her waist. The memory of the hard scars underneath still haunted him. Goddamn it. Why couldn’t he have gotten the intel about her capture sooner and saved her that pain?
The path wasn’t long but he couldn’t keep himself from touching her. If he had his way, she’d be in his arms again if he thought he’d get away with it twice. Yes, he was all kinds of stupid for wanting more, especially after he laid down the law before walking out on her, but he couldn’t help it. Seeing her huddled against the fence, injured and defeated, ripped at his heart.
Talon passed them, dangling a set of keys. “Picked these up from the lady in the office yesterday.”
Cappy nodded, wondering what excuse Talon gave the woman for the condition of his face. Bet she hesitated before handing them over. It wouldn’t be every day an “executive” walked in with a puss resembling a punching bag.
The air suddenly filled with anxious impatience and the hairs on Cappy’s neck rose. The Senator had caught up. Wonderful. When he got a hold of Ted, he’d make damn sure that boy understood when to keep his mouth shut. Cappy always planned on allowing the Senator to talk to Michelle, but not until he heard her version of the story first. Had a chance to do some research based on her recounting of events and piece together the larger story . . . not accept YouTube as proof she killed Colin.
He gripped Michelle’s arm and murmured, “Hold on.”
She glanced up at him sharply but he didn’t respond. Michelle didn’t need a bunch of witnesses if she experienced a massive episode like she had yesterday.
“I’m going to ask everyone to wait here while I take Michelle inside,” Cap
py stated, including everyone in the directive.
“What—”
“It’s not necessary,” Michelle said at the same time as the Senator began his protest, her face now bright red.
“I disagree,” Cappy replied, unwilling to explain to the rest of the group just how bad she had relapsed. It wasn’t anyone else’s business. “Humor me.”
Magician placed a hand on the Senator’s bicep while Romeo dropped his arm across Isis’s shoulders. “Go ahead,” Magician said, visibly tightening her fingers when the Senator opened his mouth. “We’ll be fine out here. Just remember he shouldn’t really be seen either. The media would descend on this place, followed quickly by everyone else.”
“Understood.” Cappy gave her a two-fingered salute and gently pushed Michelle forward. If his woman’s-emotional-radar was functioning properly, he’d gage her setting to be “Embarrassed-Pissed.” He could live with that.
She stomped forward and pivoted when they entered the living room that looked exactly like the other cottage except for the color-scheme. Instead of blue and tan swirls, this one had mauve and tan swirls. Ugly no matter what.
He shoved his sunglasses into a side cargo pocket since he no longer had a collar to hang them from.
“I’m not going to break down like I did yesterday,” she hissed.
“Okay,” he agreed, now seeing she was correct, “but I wasn’t willing to take that risk. Call me an asshole, but you’ve had two full-blown episodes.” He held up his hand to count. “One when we arrived and one last night. And you just had a mini one by the pool where you shutdown. I didn’t think you’d want everyone staring at you while you relived that hell until I could bring you back.”
The spots on her cheeks deepened.
“We good?” Talon asked from his position against the wall between the living and dining room.
“Yeah,” Cappy responded, “I think your face is safe from her fists . . . at least for a little while longer.”
