by P. A. DePaul
As if choreographed, every head turned to the man still leaning against the wall twirling his favorite knife. Bruises blossomed spectacularly along his nose and around both eye sockets.
Menace sparkled from his frosty emerald eyes as he stared back. “That did not help your case, Jeremy.” Talon’s low, cold voice broke the silence.
The air froze in Cappy’s lungs. The small kernel of doubt that had been shadowing his rage since Michelle began explaining gained a stronger hold on him. Don’t say it.
“It’s no secret I’d settle the score with any bastard who beat or hurt a woman, but in this case, I believe Michelle’s already gotten even.”
Son of a fuck, he said it.
“You think I did it?” Michelle breathed, a mixture of horror and pissed.
Talon’s gaze settled on her. “Whatever that freezing thing was by the pool in no way encompasses your range when gripped with PTSD. I’ve been on the receiving end of one of your other types of episodes. You completely lost all awareness and fought like a wildcat.” He straightened from the wall. “So, hell yes, I think you’d be capable of picking up a bottle and swinging it over Colin’s head in a desperate attempt to get free.”
Her jaw clicked shut. Fury and fear crept into her irises.
Cappy wanted to lay waste to Talon’s words but he couldn’t. He wanted so bad to scoff and point at that small piece of evidence everyone overlooked to disprove the theory but so far none existed. Goddammit. His heart railed that she didn’t do it. His mind mostly agreed but a tiny portion kept saying, You saw her full-blown episode too. She could’ve done it.
“Colin shoved me on the bed,” Michelle repeated in a tight voice. “The bottle was still by the window.”
“My son’s not a rapist,” the Senator argued, though his vehemence had lessened some.
A spark lit into Michelle’s eyes. “Maybe, maybe not, but he just laughed when I yelled ‘No’ and ‘Stop’.”
“You could’ve gotten free and ran for the bottle,” Isis retorted.
“I didn’t,” Michelle replied in a low voice.
Talon strolled away from the wall, finally joining the circle . . . on the far side of Wraith and Grady. Isis perked up and inched a little closer to the operative. “The significance of the cuffs is obviously tied in with how you two met. You want to convince us and help us understand the bigger picture?” He drilled his gaze into Cappy. “We need to hear the real story.”
Every protection instinct within Cappy flared. “Let me reiterate the word classified.” His stomach shrank at the thought of Michelle recounting that tale and him having to admit his failure on so many levels out loud. “This happened prior to SBG. I can’t even confirm or deny if I was in Colombia or not.”
Talon snorted. “You don’t have to, the proof’s standing right there.” Talon motioned to Michelle. “Besides, you’ve already mentioned Colombia quite a few times and she’s cried out how she’s not a spy.”
“Talon,” Cappy lashed out.
“No,” he whipped back, his eyes hardening. “Whether she ultimately did it or not we’ll figure out, but something else is going on here and I think it may have to do with how you met her.”
“You’re damn right something else is going on,” Cappy retorted. “I said as much in Grady’s kitchen yesterday morning.”
“You did mention you didn’t think you had the whole story,” Grady responded, pulling Wraith back to his side. “What specifically set your radar off?”
“This whole thing.” Cappy swiped his hands over his head, trying to rein in his emotions. Spouting his refusal to believe she murdered Colin like a loon wouldn’t convince this bunch nor help her case. “Something about that video bothered me, but it wasn’t until after listening to Michelle’s side that it clicked.”
“How did the cameraman . . . or woman . . . know to film at that precise time and at that perfect angle?” Romeo asked as if reading his mind. Not really that surprising given Romeo’s background. Having police academy training before moving on to the bomb squad prior to SBG gave him an edge in looking for anomalies.
“Precisely. How would he or she know Colin convinced Michelle to come back with him to his room?”
Romeo nodded. “Yeah, that’s been bothering me too.”
Ted straightened in the dining room chair and clicked on a document that had been minimized. WHO KILLED COLIN? filled the top header, and underneath he had written the evidence and questions they had mentioned so far.
The kid watched way too many TV shows, but Cappy had to admit it helped to see it all in one place.
After Ted finished logging their latest question, Cappy peered over the list. His speculations didn’t help much.
Shit. He stroked the area above his heart. Her tears had dried on his skin, but he still felt their remnants. “I have no proof, but my gut says our amateur filmmaker is either the killer or a partner to the killer.”
Hope flared through Michelle’s eyes.
That small part of his brain wanted to tell her not to put too much stock into his words until he could prove beyond a shadow of doubt she didn’t do it. His heart thumped as if to flip his brain off.
“Tall leap, but we can all figure out why,” Talon cracked, and Cappy narrowed his eyes onto his subordinate. Talon continued before Cappy could chastise him. “But I’ll play along with the Michelle-didn’t-do-it theory just for shits and giggles. What do you make of Colin’s statement about him waiting for her in the club?”
“And how he had been told she had a reputation for rough, kinky sex,” Wraith jumped in, her cheeks pink.
“Colin even had an item that seemed to push her over the edge into hysteria,” Grady drawled.
“As if he had been coached to use it,” Magician said pensively, absently fingering her scar.
“Like someone knew about her past?” Talon asked pointedly while twirling his knife. “I’ll say it again. We need to know how you two met.”
At the word past Cappy stiffened, a realization hitting him like a brick. “Son of a bitch.” He focused on the Senator. “Come at this from a different angle. What if the target isn’t Colin or even Michelle?”
The Senator flinched.
Cappy smelled proverbial blood and pounced. “Do you know who has access and enough time to research their history? Who could conceive a plan with a strong motive for wanting Colin dead and Michelle framed?”
Bob Harris’s face tightened.
“Who’s vindictive,” Cappy continued, “conniving, and has some sort of stake in the outcome . . . like some appalling game of chess?”
“Victor,” the Senator answered, the bluster now gone from his voice.
All movement stopped.
Cappy’s red flags were almost flying off their poles. The politician knew something he hadn’t deigned to tell them yet.
“Victor?” Michelle asked, surveying the group.
“Yeah,” Cappy answered, racking his brain on which evasive measures he’d have to execute through this land mine. “He’s the former CEO of SweetBriar Group.”
“The guy who’s in jail?” Michelle’s eyebrows flew up. “Why would he want me framed for Colin’s murder?”
“That’s an excellent question I think the Senator and I need to pose to him directly,” Cappy answered swiftly, not wanting to give her any time to ask anything else and needing to wrap this inquisition up. Nothing more could be accomplished by talking. Time to prove his heart was right.
“Cappy—”
“Howard, Stiles, White.” Cappy pointed to each, cutting off Michelle. “Head back to command central and see if you can get the security footage from the club. Forward everything you can get your hands on to Ted so he can sift through it all to see what might have been missed.”
Magician and Romeo nodded. Isis narrowed her eyes.
“Jeremy—”
“Ted,” Cappy continued over Michelle, his mind sifting through the logistics of leaving, “see what flights are available—”
“There’s no need for that,” the Senator piped in. “We can use the plane I have at my disposal.”
“Must be nice,” Grady muttered.
“Sure,” the Senator grumbled. “If you consider having to ask permission from my wife to use it.”
Grady held up his hands. “Ah, yeah, sorry.”
“Capp—”
“Thank you, Senator,” Cappy barreled on, “that’ll help a lot. Can you set up the visitation for today?”
The politician nodded. “Yeah, I can probably make that happen.”
Cappy pointed at the lovebirds. “Grady and Sandra, can you help Ted get set up in this cottage? Keep an eye on him and help Talon.”
“Help Talon with what?” the operative asked about himself, pausing his knife.
“Malone—”
“Keep Michelle safe while I’m gone.”
“Jer . . . you’re leaving?” Her spine stiffened and the angry spots on her cheeks deepened.
He grasped one of her fists and went for practicality. “Out of everyone here, you’re the most familiar with Talon.”
“SCK? Seriously?”
“What the hell’s a SCK?” Isis asked.
“Me,” Talon answered with a glint of amusement. “Stone Cold Killer, to be precise.” He turned to Michelle. “Who better to babysit you, Sixty-Nine, than a borderline psycho?”
“Babys—”
“Talon,” Cappy snapped, then softened his gaze on Michelle. “He’s the most experienced if you have one of your full-blown episodes. He can help—”
“No. He can’t.” She all but vibrated, her emotional radar set at “Seething.”
Great. “Michelle, be reasonable—”
She yanked her hand out of his.
Someone sucked in a breath just as a thundercloud eclipsed Michelle’s face. “Reasonable? Reasonable? That’s just as bad as saying ‘calm down.’ Don’t you get it?” She poked him hard with a shaking finger. “It’s you, Jeremy. In my episodes before, sometimes I’d be under for hours and come back so wrecked, it’d take me days to recuperate.”
He paused rubbing his chest.
She poked him again. “You bring me back so much quicker. You give me the anchor I need to fight my way out. And when I’ve returned to reality, I’m not as destroyed. It’s you.”
His heart skipped a beat. He what? That couldn’t be true.
“Ah, yeah,” Romeo said awkwardly. “We’re going to give you two a minute.” Shifting and shuffling followed but Cappy’s focus remained locked on Michelle.
He had to get her to see reason. “If I wasn’t here in the first place, you wouldn’t be experiencing them at all.”
“Bull hockey! The episodes started before I even saw you. You even theorized that a moment ago.” She swiped at her hair. “I don’t understand why you refuse to believe me. You’re not a trigger. Why are you looking for any excuse to push me away—”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
His stomach squeezed at the way the blood drained from her face.
“Oh.” She visibly swallowed.
Fuck. What now?
“I get it. I’m sorry.”
The cold detachment in her voice filled every cell with dread and caused a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t want to know what made her flip a one-eighty, but couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Get what?”
“It’s okay.” She clasped her trembling hands together.
“What’s okay?”
“You don’t have to make up any more reasons. It’s a lot to ask anyone to consign themselves to a life of having to worry about triggers and episodes and fallouts. I’m sorry. I’ve been so selfishly focused on me, I didn’t think about what that would mean for you.”
“Selfishly—” He tried again. “Fallout—” Damn, his scrambled mind couldn’t figure out which idiotic statement to address first. “Now you listen to me.” Probably not the best to command her either. Shit. He swiped a hand over his head and growled.
Her eyes widened and she stepped back.
That small action made him mental. “You never have to fear me. You hear me? Never.”
She hesitantly nodded, chewing her bottom lip. Obviously not believing him.
Christ. Way to convince her, asshole. “I’m sorry that came out tense, but the thought of you being afraid I’d raise a hand or do something to physically hurt you . . . well, you can see it turns me into a blathering idiot.”
A ghost of a smile lit her eyes, giving him hope he’d actually said the right thing for once. He crowded into her space, stalking her movements until her shoulder blades hit the drywall. Placing a hand at the side of her head, careful to leave the other at his hip so she didn’t feel trapped, he leaned forward, knowing for damn sure he had her full attention. “You may be a lot of things, but selfish is not one of them. I’m not rejecting you, but you’re right. I am pushing you away.”
Pain flared across her eyes and she made a small sound.
“Shit. That came out wrong.” Think, moron. “Normal basic needs, those things every woman has the right to expect, I can’t provide. You deserve a life far beyond what I can give. The choices I made and the life I lead don’t allow me the luxury of having a home or a family.”
She winced and looked away, tears crowding the corners of her eyes.
Ah hell. If only she realized how forcing those words out cut him deep.
He placed a finger under her chin and turned her to face him again, unable to take being shut out anymore. The tears streaking her cheeks shredded his already-battered heart and the liquid bronze pools staring up at him did him in.
The realization of just how much he loved this woman hit him like an anvil. His pulse jumped in time with the knotting of his stomach and his knuckles protested his trying to burrow them into the drywall. Fucking Fates. He mentally flipped them the finger at dangling her in front of him just so he’d have to walk away from yet another loved one.
From the second he saw Michelle locked to that bed in Colombia and every minute being back in her presence since solidified how far he had fallen until he could no longer deny she was the one for him.
Why? he cried to those evil bitches, barely refraining from punching a hole in the wall. My friends, family, and life weren’t enough? You think it’s funny to have me watch my sisters and their kids grow up on the Internet, knowing I’ll never get to interact with them again? Now you make me fall in love. Literally give me the girl of my dreams, shroud her in this murder conspiracy to make me doubt her, then, tell me I have to choose between her or my life as an operative and the team? Fuck you!
Energy coiled through his arm, urging him to drive his fist into the wall, but he froze at her soft spoken word.
“. . . children.”
“What?” He straightened and blinked against the red haze.
She lifted her chin. “I don’t have the luxury of a family either. I can’t have children.”
Chapter 34
Romeo lifted his face to the sun and inhaled. A perfect, mid-sixties day unlike the hot-as-hell-humid-as-fuck Mexican villages they had tromped through too many times.
“I don’t like leaving her here,” Bob Harris rumbled, peering at the front door of the cottage where they all congregated on the walkway just outside.
Talon stiffened. “Don’t trust me to keep her protected?”
“She’s already escaped once under your and Cappy’s watch,” the Senator snapped.
Talon drew himself up but Wraith asked a question before his teammate could react. “You buying into Talon’s PTSD-induced murder?” A frown marred her pretty face.
Bob Harris sighed. “I’m not discounting it. That girl’s n
ot completely innocent. She wasn’t just randomly chosen out of a phone book. Until we find out for sure what happened, she needs to be kept under lock and key.”
“Then you shouldn’t worry,” Grady deadpanned. Romeo held his breath, waiting for the rest. “Talon’s got such a way with people, she’ll either be incapacitated within the first five minutes or barricaded in her room, trying to hide from his stellar personality.”
“One day, Southern IQ,” Talon warned softly. “We’ll finish what we started.”
“Don’t tease,” Grady replied with a cold grin, scratching the area just below the team’s emblem hanging around his neck.
Wraith slapped Grady’s arm and shot Talon a look filled with mixed emotions.
Romeo felt for the guy. Wraith needed to shut this shit down. If she didn’t have a talk with Talon soon, Romeo was going to stage an intervention and no one was going to be happy when they left.
A frown stole over the Senator’s face. “I’ll lodge my issue with Cappy once he’s done. In the meantime, I’ve got to make arrangements for the plane and set up the visitation with Victor.”
“Cottage One is empty,” Romeo answered, peeking at the front of Cottage Two again. His curiosity was getting the better of him. What the hell had happened in Colombia? Why had Michelle been held? How did Cappy get involved? “Talon’s got the keys.”
Isis raked her gaze down Talon’s physique then threaded her arm through his. “I’ll join you.”
Talon jerked and frowned at the connection.
Romeo blinked. Ah. She was moving on. He stroked his fingers absently against the small of Magician’s back. He didn’t want to understand or analyze the relief tingling in his veins.
Talon extricated his arm out of hers and froze when he glanced at Wraith’s hand interlaced with Grady’s. His face reddened and he slipped over the yard. No sound showing how upset he was; only the lingering aura of emotion betrayed him.
Ted lumbered after him with Isis clasping the Senator’s elbow and leading him away, her chin held high. Wraith and Grady didn’t really follow; instead they strolled to the end of the walkway. Probably giving Talon some space.
