by P. A. DePaul
Chapter 41
Cappy shifted, now beyond ready to walk out of the prison and never return. What a colossal waste of time. He’d known Victor would enjoy his moment in the limelight, stringing them along, but he’d hoped for more than just a few innuendos. Bragging and boasting about his maneuverings would’ve been annoying as fuck but much more helpful than playing games.
You denying you have blood on your hands too? Cappy still couldn’t cycle through the shock that Sam would betray their pact and write the events of Colombia down, or that Victor had accessed it. Bastards, both of them.
How much had Sam written about Michelle? And why would he ever diary something so tragic? Sam and a few chosen operatives from SBG had been at the compound and helped with the raid. The co-founder of SBG had also witnessed what happened to Cappy’s unit. Not that Cappy remembered at first. The bomb’s blast threw him hard and he had suffered from amnesia during the first few weeks of recovery. By the time he regained his memory, the Army had already declared him dead and awarded his family with his medal. Sam then convinced Cappy to stay dead to keep his family safe from retaliation, and he had. Though why Sam was so convinced it was possible, the man had never clued Cappy in.
But none of that explained why Michelle had been brought into this. She had nothing to do with SBG.
Something else is going on here and I think it may have to do with how you met her. Talon’s words from earlier haunted his mind. Goddamn it. It appeared more and more like that was the case.
The Senator slammed his hands against the other side of the steel table and leaned close. “You think your little run-in with the guard has earned you any respect or leniency? Try again, asshole. I arranged this little private meeting at the drop of the hat. Think they allow this shit for just anybody? No. The DoD and the warden are watching your every move and are very amiable when it comes to making you suffer. With one word I can make your life in here a living hell. No one will show you mercy no matter how many times you beg, and you’ll never know when the next attack is coming.”
Chains rattled and Cappy soaked in Victor’s banged up image. The former CEO’s left shoulder hung a little lower than the right and the short-sleeved jumpsuit did nothing to hide the bruises on his arms. Ah, a beautiful sight.
“You threatening me, Bob?” Victor asked through puffy split lips while raising an eyebrow from his one good-ish eye. “You sure you want to go down that road?”
“Promising,” Senator Harris retorted. “Not threatening. Your ass will be kicked, ripped, and shredded constantly.”
“A man standing in quicksand shouldn’t bluster so much. He’ll get swallowed whole in a blink.”
Bob’s face reddened and Cappy stepped forward to catch the politician if he had a mind to jump over the table.
“Face it, Senator, running SBG is a messy business. You need me. I know what it takes to ensure the clandestine side stays hidden, the contracted missions are completed, and the Board of Directors stay out of my business.”
“Bullshit,” the Senator snarled. “I think you’re all in league with one another and I’ll take every one of those namby-pambies down once I gather the proof.”
Victor’s chin notched up. “I’m a patriot. When I bleed, it’s red, white, and blue. Everything I did was to keep this country safe and ensure SweetBriar Group’s reputation remained unsullied and our sacred position as the government’s go-to Black-Ops contractor didn’t falter.”
Unbelievable. Was he for real? An image of Grady’s bullet-riddled house floated into Cappy’s mind. “Murdering employees and blackmailing powerful figures is just a typical day at the office?”
“Call it checks and balances or collateral damage.” Victor lasered his gaze on Cappy. “It’s unfortunate, but there’re always casualties of war . . . And make no mistake, we are definitely at war with lowlife pieces of shit who think they can undermine us with their drugs and their slavery or attack us outright.”
Cappy was actually stunned stupid. Did the man really think that asinine speech justified his actions?
Victor leaned forward, halving the space between him and the Senator. “With your extracurricular activities already a strike against you, you can’t afford to get your hands dirtier while maintaining a public office. Stop this absurd tantrum you’re throwing and have me released. Your quality of life will improve drastically.”
The Senator choked and his eyes narrowed. His finger trembled as he pointed it at Victor. “Quality of life? Now who’s threatening whom? One of your bastards has me on speed dial.”
Cappy jolted, the waving red flags from earlier flared to life.
“I know you had a hand in Colin’s death,” the politician continued. “Release you? Fuck that. I want you to rot in hell.”
“It’s true, people are loyal to me. Some more than others.” Victor shot Cappy a look.
“Yeah, fuck you too.” Cappy crossed his arms to hold himself back from wringing the former CEO’s neck. “I’m not one of your lackeys anymore.”
Victor’s mouth thinned and he turned to the Senator. “If you haven’t noticed.” He rattled his handcuffs, the metal clanging against the pole and steel table. “I’ve been locked up. How could I kill your son?”
“One of your Assassin Squad members did the wet work on your order,” Cappy responded. A flash of the YouTube video scrolled in his head, causing his blood pressure to spike. “And set Michelle up for it.”
“My, my.” Victor moved back, his pompous expression belying his I-don’t-know-what-you-mean-I’m-innocent tone. “That’s some theory.”
You can’t kill him. You can’t kill him. “What I can’t figure out,” Cappy forced out through his tight lips, “is why you’d target her in the first place.”
“So sure it’s me and not your girlfriend who killed such a fine upstanding pillar of society? Wasn’t it caught on tape or something?”
Cappy wanted to drive his fist right through the smug bastard’s face.
“Conveniently so,” Senator Harris retorted, surprising Cappy. On the plane the politician sounded ready to hang her for the crime.
Victor shifted and his face grimaced as if in pain. He lifted his left shoulder and . . . wait a minute.
Cappy slit his eyes and scrutinized how the fabric seemed to be weighted . . . Son of a bitch!
He knocked the Senator out of the way and lunged across the table.
“Hey. What—” Victor tried to dodge but his handcuffs didn’t have enough length to allow him to go very far.
“What the fuck is that,” Cappy yelled, scrabbling to reach inside the jumpsuit. Goddamn it. “HOLD STILL.” When had the asshole turned into a contortionist?
“Get off me.” Victor shifted and twisted, pulling against the shackles.
The Senator ran behind Victor and gripped the former CEO’s shoulders.
“FUCK!” Victor yelled, his face going white.
Cappy burrowed inside the jumpsuit and latched onto a chunk of hard plastic. With a quick yank, he pulled it out and jumped back.
Dumbfounded, Cappy stared at the cell phone now resting in his hands. There weren’t enough curse words in the English language to convey the rage bubbling inside. He flipped the cover open and pulled up the last activity. His brain overloaded with too many possibilities as he stared at a text message displayed on the screen, sent around the same time they entered the room. “What the hell does ‘Green light. Now.’ mean?”
“You son of a bitch,” the Senator roared, slamming his fist against Victor’s jaw. “Did you send your twisted fuck after my wife?”
Oh shit. What the hell else was going on?
Cappy rounded the table and wound a meaty arm around Bob’s waist, dragging him away. The Senator fought against the grip but Cappy muscled him to the other side of the table.
“What are you talking about?” Cappy grunted, still exe
rting his force to hold Bob back.
Victor spat a wad of blood on the floor and wiped his chin with his fingers. “You keeping secrets from your lapdog?”
Son of a bitch. He knew the politician had been holding back. One way to cut to the chase. Cappy pressed the Telephone icon and the sound of ringing silenced the room.
“A little busy right now,” a male voice barked through the tinny speaker.
Every nerve in Cappy’s body fired.
“I told you I’d call when I’m done.”
Cappy’s hand shook and he couldn’t figure out why. Where did he know that voice?
“Done?” The Senator vibrated. “Done what?”
Silence.
“You the little bastard who’s been calling me with the altered voice?”
The connection severed.
The Senator pulled out of Cappy’s loosened grip and charged the table, leaning across the steel expanse. “What did you do? Who was that?”
“Someone’s been calling you?” Cappy asked at the same time, trying to make this new information fit.
“Yes,” Senator Harris hissed, then pointed. “One of his—what did you call them? Assassin Squad members.”
Victor lifted his chin.
“About what and for how long?” Cappy’s rage spilled into his voice and he had trouble not letting it loose on the stupid politician. Why the hell would the man hold something like that back?
“Started last week,” Bob answered, not taking his eyes off Victor. “Demanding I resume the blackmail payments, or else.”
“Goddamn it,” Cappy roared. “You’re just telling me this now?”
The Senator’s eyes hardened and he visibly swallowed. “It didn’t concern you before.”
Cappy stiffened as the Senator’s words from earlier sunk in. His stomach bottomed out. “Fuck. Senator, where is your wife now?”
Chapter 42
“She’s not answering,” Bob Harris yelled from the passenger seat of the rental car.
Cappy gripped the steering wheel. “Where’s her protection detail? Aren’t they with her?”
The Senator punched the dashboard. “No.” He jabbed a button on the phone again and ringing filled the rental car. “She demanded to be left alone. Said she needed time by herself.”
“And you let her go without anyone watching over her?” Cappy blinked. No way could he have heard that right. Even a politician wasn’t that dumb. “Your son just died and now you’re telling me you’ve received a call that your wife’s next. Jesus Christ, Bob. What were you thinking?”
“First off, I’m Senator Harris to you—”
“Screw the posturing. You’re lucky I’m not calling you something a lot worse instead.” He depressed the gas pedal more. They couldn’t afford the speeding ticket, but needed to make the hour-long trek shorter somehow.
“Fuck you, Cappy.”
“Whatever. Are your men at least in the same state or are they all back in Indiana?” Cappy signaled to get around a Honda Civic obviously out for a Sunday evening drive and clogging up the road. 7:16 p.m. The sun had set a few minutes ago, making driving hazardous with that weird light-yet-dark twilight.
Victor had strung them along for almost an hour, giving his operative enough time to—
“You’ve reached area code—” Senator Harris hung up on the digital voicemail message and hit another button, his hands shaking so hard it was a wonder he hadn’t dropped the device. After a single ring, “Hello,” blared out of the speaker.
“Code Red. April,” the Senator snapped. “Send every man to the lake house now.”
“Be advised,” Cappy interjected, knowing the man wasn’t thinking tactically. “A death threat has been issued against April. We have reason to believe the killer is on site.”
“Understood,” a male voice answered. “We’re already loading in the vehicles. ETA one-point-three minutes.” He hung up.
“I should call the police or FBI,” the Senator moaned, cradling his head.
“You can,” Cappy agreed, passing another slow-timer. “But we have no clue what surprise Victor may have left behind. If you want to risk the local authorities becoming entangled in SBG business, call them.”
What a clusterfuck. An image of Michelle’s battered body rose in his mind. He couldn’t imagine what the Senator was going through since political marriages were rarely about love, but if Michelle had been threatened? The leather on the steering wheel squeaked underneath his tightening grip. Yeah, heaven help the bastard who dared touch her.
The GPS chimed in with a warning that his next turn was coming in a half mile.
The Senator’s phone rang. “Hello,” he barked, his knuckles white, gripping the device. “She safe? You get there in time?”
Audible swallow. “I’m sorry, sir,” the man whispered. “She’s de—”
A low keening wail emanated from the Senator, raising the hairs on Cappy’s body. Shit, no. A lump lodged itself in his throat. Even with all the straying, it was obvious now that Bob Harris had really loved his second wife.
Cappy slammed his palm into the steering wheel. Such a goddamn waste! Why hadn’t Bob come to them sooner?
“Sir? Sir?”
The Senator rocked back and forth. The abject grief pouring off the man sucked Cappy in. Son of a bitch. Pain radiated from his throat from trying to swallow against the tears crowding the corners of his eyes. Too many senseless deaths.
“Sir!”
Cappy cleared his throat and gruffly answered, “I’m here.”
“We’ve secured the perimeter. Two of my men are searching the area, but so far we haven’t found the bastard who did this.” Rage and grief poured through every word of the man’s report.
Not surprising the assassin had split. Cappy’s call had tipped the asshole off.
A scraping noise filled the speaker before the leader of the protection detail stated, “The son of a bitch left an envelope addressed to the Senator.”
Blood pounded through his veins. “Have you opened it?”
“No, sir. It feels like it may contain pictures, though.”
Oh God. What new hell had Victor wrought?
“Check,” Cappy answered, giving up the pretense of following the speed limit, and smashed the gas pedal down. “Secure the envelope and call nine-one-one.”
The Senator flinched and lifted his head. The tears tracking down his ravaged face broke Cappy’s heart. Dear God. The man had lost his son and now his wife. And for what? Victor’s twisted power games?
A low growl emitted from Cappy’s throat. First chance he got, he was calling the warden and unleashing hell on the former CEO.
“Understood,” the leader stated. “Any particular story you want me to give?”
Cappy thought a moment. “No. Stick as closely to the truth as possible. The Senator called asking you to check on his wife. Omit why. If pressed, just state how he worried about her being by herself while grieving for Colin. The rest can basically stand minus the discovery of the envelope. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Chapter 43
“I’m a chauvinistic pig!” blasted from Sonya’s jacket.
Michelle, Sandra, and Sonya whipped their gazes toward the sound.
Sonya snorted and Sandra burst out laughing.
“I’m a chauvinistic pig!”
Michelle blinked and couldn’t hold in her giggle. Dang, she hadn’t laughed this much in a long time.
“Gets me every time. Best five dollars spent on a ringtone.” Sonya got up and took her phone out of the inside pocket.
“I’m a chauvinistic pig!”
“I reassign the ringtone as needed,” Sonya explained. “This time it belongs to SAC Bingham.” She sent them a hard look. “Not a word from either of you.”
“I’m a chauvin—”
The tiny respite Michelle garnered a second ago dried up. Jeremy doing everything he could to protect her was one thing, now her Fate rested in this woman’s hands. She wouldn’t rat out Michelle and set up a transfer into their custody, would she?
“Your partner, Stiles, breezed in here a few hours ago and now isn’t answering his phone. Neither is Senator Harris,” SAC Bingham snapped, his annoyance seeping through the speaker loud and clear.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Sonya replied, completely cordial.
“Stiles mentioned you accompanied the Senator to Kansas. Anything I should know about?”
Tension coiled inside Michelle to the point she could strum it like a chord.
“He wanted to visit Victor Dalmingo.”
“Why? And why now?”
“You’d have to ask him,” Sonya replied, still unfazed. “I only know he had some questions he wanted to pose to the prisoner directly.” Sonya waited a beat then asked, “Is that all, sir?”
Heavy silence, then, “No. We got the results back from the preliminary tests we asked for from the search.”
Sweat coated Michelle’s hands and she could scarcely breathe. This was it. The moment when everything about the case would change.
“Her dress came back negative for Colin’s blood and champagne.”
Sonya’s gaze flew to Michelle’s and a wide grin spread across her face. Sandra celebrated by pumping her fists and bouncing.
“I see,” Sonya replied with no hint of gloating, though her eyes held plenty. “Do Raymond and I now have clearance to pursue other leads with this case?”
The anvil pressing against Michelle’s chest shattered and she sucked in a large breath. Would everyone finally believe her? She may have asked that to the universe, but her heart zeroed in on Jeremy. Had he doubted her innocence after hearing Talon’s theory? The mature part of her told her he had a right to be wary and guarded; the man wasn’t stupid or naive. Her inner two-year-old stomped her foot and stuck her tongue out at objectivity.
