by P. A. DePaul
“What?” Cappy’s blood pressure rocketed up and down like a piston with this conversation.
“Yep.” Wraith tag-teamed. “You said it and she remembered it. She asked about it when we helped get her situated on the bed. Wanted to know if we all worked for SBG and mumbled something about the chain of command. Just as we got her shoes off and were about to leave, she hit us with that she doesn’t believe Magician, Romeo, and Isis really work for the FBI, but you.”
“Christ,” he muttered, seemingly unable to access any other word in his vocabulary.
“She deserves to know and it should come from you.” Wraith leaned against the table and continued to hammer at him. “Take it from someone who had to fake her death just to get away, finding Grady was the best thing that happened out of that nightmare.”
Magician mirrored Wraith’s pose. “Romeo said this earlier and I agree: SBG is going through a change. It’s not going to be all roses, but you have the team to help keep her safe just like we kept Grady safe. Don’t lose her because she thinks you have no trust in her.”
Every word they spoke tempted him so much.
“I’m not allowed to have emotions,” Cappy bit out, if only to remind himself. “I’m the leader of this team.”
“You’re human, not a robot,” Magician retorted. “You’re allowed to feel.”
“You both know all the gory details now. The last time I got caught up in my emotions, I led my unit to their deaths.”
Magician and Wraith blinked.
“Actually, we don’t,” Wraith replied slowly. “Michelle only told us about the rescue.”
SON OF A FUCK. He gripped his hands together under the table.
“Hey,” Wraith soothed, “whatever happened, that was six years ago. We’re not the Army. You have to have a little faith that we’ll be fine.”
“You can’t deny yourself love because you’re afraid to lose us,” Magician followed up gently.
He peered through the window but only saw darkness.
“Get your head out of your ass and don’t screw this up.”
Cappy flinched, turning his attention to Wraith. She had never spoken to him like that before.
“You’ve shouldered all the weight on your own for too long,” Wraith qualified in a softer tone. “I only did it for seven months and the isolation I felt was horrible. I can’t imagine six years without having your parents, siblings, cousins, whatever for support even if you never call on them. Just knowing you could at any time helps with the burden.”
Cappy stayed silent.
Wraith had no problem filling the void with her final boom. “While the team is like family to me, nothing can substitute the bond I have with Grady. SBG doesn’t get to tell me who I can and can’t love and what I do about it. You shouldn’t let them either. Michelle is your other half.”
Chapter 45
Michelle placed Talon’s hat on her head and futzed with it for a second. Dark smudges lined her eyes and a faint buzzing still hummed in her blood. Not a shock to still be tipsy at 2:32 a.m.
Sandra had shaken her awake, told her they had landed, and instructed her to hurry through the bathroom bit.
“The airport is a ghost town,” Sandra had murmured. “Since we never crossed the borders and were already ‘cleared’ by security in Kansas, no one from security is waiting outside.” She’d held up Talon’s hat. “Put this on and join us.” Before Michelle could process everything, the woman slid from the bedroom.
Michelle peered at her less-than-stellar reflection. Self-consciousness hit her and she couldn’t help wondering how Sandra and Sonya would treat her once she emerged. She felt closer to Sonya after sharing scar stories, but did the super-chic woman feel the same?
Bracing herself for the possible brush-off, she stepped into the cabin. The sight of so many people caught her by surprise. Almost everyone from yesterday was here. Only Blond B-yotch Isis and the Senator were missing.
As if they read her mind, Sandra and Sonya each broke off their conversations and met her near the edge of the room. Michelle steeled herself, but instead of trite, pithy comments, they each embraced her. Tears sprang at the corners of her eyes. Holy guacamole. Was this what having girlfriends meant? Support without words?
Grady cleared his throat, making the three of them break apart. A frown eclipsed his handsome face and he studied each one of them before encircling Sandra back into his arms. “Do I want to know?”
As if choreographed, they all shook their heads.
“Right,” he gamely replied, “moving on. We’re here to help disguise your exit, Michelle.”
“Safety in numbers,” Raymond explained, placing a hand on the small of Sonya’s back. It was odd to see him without his suit. The pair of designer jeans and henley he had on somehow seemed to make him even more devastatingly handsome—maybe because she could relate to the casual clothes better or because it showed off his exquisitely maintained physique. Either way, Sonya was a lucky woman if Michelle’s intuition was right.
A shiver stole down her spine and the goose bumps she had been ignoring since entering the cabin increased, raising the hair on her arms.
Jeremy had slipped up behind her.
“The few folks working the graveyard shift shouldn’t care,” he rumbled, his gruff voice tickling her ear and causing her to squirm at the rush of pleasure coursing toward her southern parts. “But just in case, when all of us exit at once the potential onlooker won’t have a clue an extra member’s been slipped in.”
She swallowed and peeked over her shoulder. Her eyes feasted on Jeremy’s gorgeous face, sliding down his chest-hugging, bicep-cutting black T-shirt to his cargo pants complete with gun and cell phone clipped to his belt. Holy fire-flame, Batman. Her temperature skyrocketed.
She straightened and studiously ignored Sandra and Sonya, not wanting confirmation that her reaction to him had been obvious. And just like that, a strange longing filled her, dampening some of her sweat-producing, indecent thoughts. The camaraderie and ease with which everyone on the plane interacted reminded her of a family . . . one she yearned to be part of.
Talon’s black-bladed knife twirled hypnotically from his position underneath the TV up front. Okay. Maybe she wouldn’t enjoy being buds with every member of this family.
She peered at Cappy again, noting the new layer of tension tightening his eyes and pulling at edges of his mouth. “Hey,” she said softly, not wanting to interrupt the soft flow of conversations around them, “are you okay? Was it bad?” She still couldn’t believe the Senator’s wife had been murdered. Colin and April. Good Lord, that poor man.
A variety of emotions flashed across his expressive eyes, and for a moment she thought he’d open up, but instead he cultivated a blank mask. “I’m fine. Murders are never pleasant.”
Duh. Disappointment lanced through her, but she wasn’t surprised he shut her out.
He slung an arm across her shoulders. “Time to go,” he announced, quieting the room.
She allowed him to lead her forward and the rest of the group filed in around her. The moment the cool air hit her face, her stomach clenched and she became sober instantly. The moon was bright and full, and hardly a sound emanated except for an occasional car on the main road.
She tugged the bill of Talon’s hat down and Jeremy gave her a squeeze, pushing her to follow Sandra and Grady. She held her breath, looking left and right furtively as she tromped down the stairs, but nothing happened. The simple plan had worked. No one greeted them at the bottom and no one seemed to care about the arriving passengers on the Senator’s plane.
They headed directly for the large Suburban Raymond had parked right near the stairs and climbed in. Ted hopped into the front passenger’s seat, Talon and Sonya slid into the first bench seat, she and Jeremy took the middle, and Sandra and Grady filled up in the last row. Raymond shut the side doors and
jumped behind the wheel.
Jeremy no longer had his arm around her but he sat close enough that every time he moved or breathed, his shoulder rubbed against hers. She shivered.
“You cold?” Jeremy asked, pulling her into his side again.
She flopped her head against his meaty shoulder and held in a sigh.
“I’ve got something to ask you, Michelle,” Raymond called, blessedly giving her an out from answering Jeremy’s question. She could hardly admit the shiver was from attraction and need.
“Sure,” she replied to Raymond, lifting her head and meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Do you, uh, collect picture frames?”
Michelle straightened. “Huh? Picture frames? What do you mean?”
Raymond guided the vehicle along the access road then glanced back up into the mirror again. “When I stopped by your apartment earlier to pick up some clothes for you, I found black picture frames in the strangest places throughout your apartment.”
Ice-cold dread shot down her spine.
Cappy stiffened and the rest of the group ping-ponged their gazes between her and Raymond.
“Um, I never . . . I mean, I don’t have . . .” She couldn’t think enough to form a sentence. Fear pooled in her gut. “No, I don’t own any.”
“What’s in the frames?” Cappy demanded.
Raymond met Jeremy’s gaze. “That’s just it. Nothing. Every frame has the same fake family that comes with them.”
Jesus Mary Joseph. Someone had been in her apartment beyond the law enforcement search warrant team.
“Show me,” Jeremy snapped.
Chapter 46
Cappy snapped closed the legal-sized file Romeo had filched from the FBI’s command central. It contained a copy of the search warrant as well as notes and the photos the FBI and Marshals had taken prior to executing the search. No extraneous picture frames were in any of the shots.
His mind raced and dread pooled in his gut. What the hell did extra picture frames mean? Why the hell would anyone break in to plant them? Not one answer he could think of included anything good.
They finally reached her complex located in the northeast section of Indianapolis. As with the vibe of the rest of the metropolis, her area didn’t have that space-is-a-premium-so-we’ll-live-on-top-of-each-other feel. The open, spacious expanse had grass, trees, walkways, and lots of parking.
“Circle around the row of buildings containing Michelle’s apartment,” he instructed, trying not to focus solely on the tremoring figure plastered against his side—his doing. Maybe he’d get a long fur cloak to go with his King of Stupidity crown and scepter.
Not much moved at three thirty in the morning. The full moon helped illuminate the area but nothing set off his radar.
Romeo parked the SUV in a lot one row over from their destination. “Be right back.”
His operative disappeared and Cappy had nothing to fill the tense air with. He had no words to soothe Michelle or even a clue as to what he could do to make this right. He curled his free hand. He needed to know what the hell was going on.
“We’re going to have a look around,” Wraith stated, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He nodded and she and Grady exited the Suburban, quietly closing the door behind them.
None of the other members of his team seemed inclined to fill in the silence, so they all sat there, waiting.
Romeo finally came back into view, jogging across the parking lot. He opened the driver’s side door and per their usual fashion, the dome lights stayed off. “We’re all clear for about fifteen minutes. I told the agents watching the place I wanted to have a look around so I’d be on the premises in case Michelle returned.” He met Cappy’s gaze. “They seemed relieved to have had their boredom interrupted but reluctant to actually leave until I gave them a ten and told them to grab some coffee and a sandwich on me at the convenience store up the road. That motivated them.”
“Excellent,” Cappy replied, fishing his money out of the side pocket of his cargo pants. He held up a ten-dollar bill. “Reimbursement.”
Romeo scowled. “Not necessary.”
Cappy’s brow knit and he held his subordinate’s gaze. He didn’t want anyone taking on any type of expense in what was basically turning into a personal mission.
“Time’s wasting,” Talon interrupted, opening the side door. “Settle up later.”
Cappy dropped his hand. Shit. He hated when the bastard was right, but Romeo only bought them (literally) a small window.
They all marched up the cement steps to Michelle’s third-floor apartment. The hairs on the back of his neck stood and he hated having her here, but she was the best person to tell him what didn’t belong.
Michelle hugged her arms closer to her body and kept up with his steps. Romeo and Magician led the way while Talon and Ted followed behind. Cappy would’ve rather left the genius in the truck but the guy had been pouring over the evidence and might be able to lend an extra opinion if needed. Christ, he hoped it wouldn’t be needed. Please let this be a prank.
The top landing leveled off into a decent-sized hallway that housed four apartment doors, two on each side. The whole stairway was open and a stiff breeze caused a low, eerie sound to run through the space. Shit, his spook-o-meter was redlining with each step closer.
Since the stairwell had flights of steps on each side of the building, it was relative to say that Romeo and Magician opened the first of the two doors on the right and disappeared inside. Cappy maneuvered to enter before Michelle, wanting to be ready to shield her if something or someone was in there to attack. Talon had his knife out and positioned himself the same way for Ted. Ted gulped, his face pale as he hugged his tablet and the FBI file to his chest.
Goose bumps flared over Cappy’s skin and he had a sudden urge to escort Michelle back downstairs. Pushing the warning to the side, he stepped into the small tiled foyer and instantly cataloged the space. The door had opened into a living/dining room combo. A sliding glass door bisected the left wall, which led to a tiny balcony. The wall to his right must belong to the bedroom since he couldn’t see one from this vantage point. He caught a glimpse of a refrigerator straight ahead and knew the kitchen lay behind the dining room wall. Beyond that, he couldn’t see anything else since the apartment skewed to the right.
Romeo and Magician moved deeper into the living room and Cappy’s senses intensified. Goddamn it. He couldn’t find a physical threat.
Against his better judgment, he allowed Michelle to enter by stepping away from the door.
She gasped.
Yeah, he could see why Romeo had sounded the alarm. A person didn’t need police training to figure out the cheap black eight-by-ten picture frames dotting the surface of every room didn’t belong.
Don’t touch, whispered in his brain.
Talon ushered Ted inside just as Grady and Wraith slipped in behind them. They closed the door while Michelle’s hand flew to her mouth and she shook her head.
The fear in her eyes widened with alarm. “My place,” she breathed. “What did they do to my apartment?” She picked up an accent pillow off the floor.
Cappy scanned the rooms he could see again. Damn. He’d been so focused on the frames he’d ignored the evidence of the search. It seemed the FBI and Marshals hadn’t been concerned with placing items back where they found them. Instead, shit was strewn everywhere.
Michelle wandered and he followed a step behind.
“Can you tell if anything’s missing?” Worry that whoever broke in might have taken a memento ate at Cappy’s gut. The creep-factor of that notion ratcheted up his desire to hustle her back to the SUV.
Her footsteps shushed over the beige carpeting and they rounded the corner. Multiple doors were left ajar and he could see one led to her bedroom, one went to a storage closet, while another closet contained line
ns, and the fourth door led to the bathroom.
The hairs on his arms rose as she wandered into her bedroom and he counted four fucking frames marring the room. Destroy them immediately, his intuition warned.
Her clothes had been ruffled through and even a few dresser drawers been stacked on the floor. His gut tightened and he couldn’t even register something as profound as seeing the most intimate space Michelle lived in for the first time. He couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting back to the frames. Malice. The word skittered down his spine and he ripped his gaze away.
The walk-in closet was long, acting like a hallway to the bathroom.
Another goddamn frame sat on the shelf above the right rod.
In the bathroom, on top of the closed toilet lid, a picture frame rested creepily, easily seen from his spot in the bedroom.
He could barely breathe, his alarms were ringing so loud. Leave them alone.
He ushered Michelle back out to the living room, taking note that her kitchen contained a small table for two and more motherfucking frames.
Burn them. Everything about them is wrong.
“I don’t think anything’s missing,” Michelle finally answered, her voice hollow and her eyes now staring at a frame positioned in front of her TV. “It’s hard to tell with everything messed up.” She pointed at another, sitting on the recliner. “They’re definitely not mine. Who would do this?”
“We’re going to find out,” he promised tightly since that was the only thing he could do. “We need to get out of here. Now.” Go, before the damage they promise is done.
Romeo looked at his watch. “Agreed. We’ve got seven minutes left.” He motioned to the apartment as a whole. “So, we’ve got twelve frames all together.”
Jesus Christ.
“I inspected them earlier,” Romeo continued. “There’re no wires or any other components of explosives, so they’re not bombs.”
“Oh Jesus,” Michelle whispered, swaying.
Cappy caught her and tucked her by his side, barely containing his shout to leave the frames alone.
