Shadow of Doubt (An SBG Novel Book 2)

by P. A. DePaul

  “White.”

  “Stiles.”

  Their expressions tightened the longer they listened until they became positively grim.

  Christ. Now what?

  They both hung up, then looked at Michelle.

  She pressed closer to him.

  Magician took a breath. “It’s your father.”

  Michelle’s hand flew to her mouth and her body trembled.

  “Someone’s attacked him,” Magician continued. “He was taken to Indiana General Hospital.”

  “He’s here?” Michelle whispered shakily. “What about my mother?”

  “She has minor injuries and is currently in protective custody with the U.S. Marshals but still at IGH.”

  Chapter 49

  Jeremy paced the length of the living room. “This has to be the most asinine plan I’ve ever been talked into.”

  Michelle sat frozen on the dining room chair, her eyes the only body part able to move, now getting dizzy from keeping up with Cappy’s movement. “I’m going with or without your help.”

  “Obviously.” Cappy stopped and placed his hands on his hips, his deep frown telegraphing his displeasure. As if his outspoken rant didn’t get that message across just fine.

  Sonya held up another thin prosthetic and adhered the cold rubberlike thing to Michelle’s other cheek. The woman then picked up her brush and began stroking Michelle’s face to blend it into place with some kind of foundation.

  “Michelle, think about this.” Cappy began pacing again. “Whoever did this to your dad could’ve done it to lure you out of hiding. We don’t know if this is a third strike by our killer or if we have a new player. Either way you’re waltzing into a trap.”

  “I’ve done nothing but think about this.” Michelle swallowed. “I have to go.”

  Cappy whirled, his mouth open, but she barreled ahead. “Look, I know this is extremely stupid.”

  His brows slammed down, then one popped up as if agreeing she was an idiot and couldn’t wait for the explanation.

  “In fact, if I read this in a book or watched it on the big screen, I’d be booing the heroine’s loss of intelligence . . . But I have to go. My parents are also in witness protection. When they entered the program after me, the Marshals refused to place us together, spouting some excuse about jeopardizing my new persona. The second my father’s healthy enough they’re going to whisk him and my mother away to God knows where and I’ll never see him again. This is my only chance to talk to them.”

  A few creative expletives dropped from Jeremy’s mouth as he ran his hands over his head. “This is nothing like slipping onto a private plane at a small airport. That’s kindergarten stuff compared to what you’re attempting to do.”

  “With you and everyone helping me, this can work. Look at how much you’ve done so far.” Michelle pointed to her face. “No one will recognize me. I mean, I can’t see it yet, but it feels like I look totally different.”

  “You do,” Raymond answered with a grin. “Agent White is a magician at disguises.”

  Sonya slid him a glance, smirked, then shrugged. “Comes with my theater background.” She traded brushes and cast a sidelong glance at the other agent. “In fact, I’ve brought the bald cap and latex foam pieces I made from your mold, Stiles. I could make you look eighty in no time.”

  He shuddered dramatically, then stopped as if suddenly inspired. “You know, I could be a very popular guy. No need for Viag—”

  A pillow smacked his face, thrown from someone behind her. Raymond caught it and laughed.

  “Michelle.” Sonya talked over her partner’s antics. “Since I don’t have the time to make a mold of your head, you’re lucky the stores love to put out holiday decorations and supplies early.”

  “And that it’s Halloween, not Christmas,” Sandra joked. “I can just imagine how Ms. Magician would turn you into an elf.”

  Their humor made Michelle smile, a first since receiving the news. “Okay, Ms. Magician, can you make about twenty pounds disappear from my body?” Michelle asked, hoping to keep with the lightened energy. Between Jeremy’s pissed off pacing and the gut-wrenching fear her father might not make it, all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.

  “You don’t need to lose weight,” Cappy snapped. “You’re perfect just how you are.”

  Michelle’s eyes flew to his. Oh wow. He was serious. Her heart lightened considerably and she couldn’t stop the goofy grin stretching across her face.

  “Gag,” Talon retorted from his favorite spot against the wall.

  “You.” Cappy rounded on the man. “Head to Indiana General. Scope out the ICU area and possible ways in.” Cappy then pointed to Sandra. “You, go with him.”

  Everyone froze.

  “Put your personal shit aside and figure out how to be civil,” Jeremy barked and pointed at Sandra again. “You got your sniper rifle?”

  Michelle jerked. She studied Sandra. Sniper?

  “Yeah. It’s with me,” Sandra answered with no inflection.

  Sniper?

  “Good. Be on the roof or wherever you deem necessary. I want intel on who’s entering and exiting. When we get there, I want us covered. Start with cell phones but switch to comms when we arrive.”

  “I’ve only got the throat mic and earpiece with me,” Sandra stated. “That okay?”

  Cappy nodded. “Yeah. All we brought too.”

  “Sorry, guys.” Ted grimaced with a lobster-red face. “I tried to get the adjustments to the pin-based ones done but ran out of time.”

  Jeremy swiped his hand through his hair and muttered something like, “Since we’ve moved our operations, every project’s fallen behind schedule.”

  Michelle’s interest peeked. They moved? The where-when-why questions flew through her mind, but before she could ask, Grady made to follow Sandra.

  Cappy held up a hand, stopping him. “I need you to help me with something else.”

  Grady’s mouth flattened and the look he gave Cappy telegraphed exactly what he thought about that.

  “She’ll be fine,” Cappy soothed, turning toward the door. “Go, you two. We’ve got days’ worth of reconnaissance to accomplish in about an hour.” After the door closed behind them, Cappy addressed Grady again. “I need you to watch over Ted.”

  Ted’s head snapped up and he gulped. “What am I going to be doing?”

  “I’m not risking you with your uncle’s dog loose.” Cappy placed his hands on his hips. “Grady’s going to be your bodyguard in the SUV. You’ll set up whatever camp you can in the back and help get us through this goatfuck-waiting-to-happen without anybody dying.”

  Michelle’s head spun. Sniper? Comms? Uncle? Did he mean Victor?

  “Once I’m done here,” Sonya interjected, blending something weird on her throat, “Stiles and I will head to IGH and run whatever interference we can.”

  “Check.” Cappy swiped his chin.

  Raymond disappeared down the hall, only to return a moment later with a backpack. He pulled out black strips of nylon with clear and black wires drooping toward the floor. Holy moly. Were those the comms? They looked like the ones she saw in the movies and on TV.

  “Damn,” the agent murmured, “wish we had the other type.” He thrust a bundle at Jeremy. “Harder to hide these. You’ll need to change your shirt.”

  Cappy whipped his T-shirt off and Michelle almost fell off the chair.

  Sonya chuckled in a low voice.

  Mortification flared bright. Dang. Her drooling at Jeremy had definitely not been subtle.

  “He really is a fine specimen, isn’t he?” Sonya whispered, winking.

  “Yeah,” Michelle brilliantly whispered, her brain cells not exactly firing at the moment. Jeremy’s muscles rippled and danced as he fit the strap over his throat and tucked a clear wire behind his ear, then mold
ed the receiver inside.

  Moisture fled from her mouth and she shifted. Her core quivered at watching him transform from mystery man into a commando.

  Cappy stalked forward.

  Michelle pressed against the back of the chair and inhaled. Good Lord; she had never been so turned on in her life.

  Agent White slid to the side and Cappy stopped just inches from Michelle, holding up a comm. “I’m going to help you put this on, okay?”

  “Okay,” she lamely replied, pulling her turtleneck down. She’d have fought that action just yesterday, but after the group had seen the photo, they already knew the scars were everywhere.

  Unable to hold his gaze without broadcasting her desire, she glanced down and got an eyeful of pecs. She exhaled. The solid wall of exposed muscles drove her pulse up to “near-heart-attack.” A fresh, pleasant scent rolled off him, making her squirm, her panties now uncomfortably moist.

  His hands brushed over her skin as he fit the strap around her neck. Closing her eyes, she lingered on the sensation. What would it be like if he trailed those fingers a little lower?

  His breathing became labored and she wondered if he was as affected as her. His thumb grazed over her favorite spot, and she sighed.

  He froze and she opened her lids. His muscles undulated and swelled as he straightened, his eyes now resembling the darkest cup of coffee she’d ever seen, and his jaw was extremely tight.

  She may not be the most versed in male attraction, but even she could tell he was just as turned on without having to check his crotch.

  “How’s that feel?” he asked gruffly, shifting his hips.

  “Like it’s choking me,” she answered, proud she could string those words together coherently.

  He lifted his hand but she stopped him from reaching forward. She couldn’t take another assault on her senses. “I know it’s not.”

  He swallowed. “If it gets too uncomfortable, let me know and I’ll do my best to adjust it.”

  She gripped his hand. “I need a distraction,” she murmured, her voice now way too husky, “or I’m going to do the thing you asked me not to.”

  His eyes dropped to her lips.

  Her breathing stuttered. “Uh, yeah. That.”

  His pupils constricted.

  Oh yes. Please kiss me.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then asked, “What kind of distraction?”

  She scrounged for something. Anything to say. “Try to convince me again how you’re not the leader of some sort of Ops team, here on a mission.” His muscles convulsed beneath her fingers. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m extremely grateful for the help. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be in custody, trying to persuade a bunch of scary people I didn’t do it, but the only person I believe is who he says he is, is Ted.”

  His expression shuttered and he freed his hand. “That subject is . . .” Pause. “I’ve said too . . .” Deep frown. “I can’t talk about it.” He pivoted and strode toward the hall. She could’ve sworn she heard him say softly, “I won’t risk your safety. You mean too much to me.”

  Her heart skipped. Had she heard that right? Michelle opened her mouth, to say . . . what? She had no clue, but Cappy cut her off by barking, “Sonya, Raymond, finish getting her ready to go. Ted, Grady, find the hospital’s schematics. We leave in ten minutes.”

  Chapter 50

  Griffin stepped through the main automatic doors of Indiana General Hospital and pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. To the left, a large registration desk blocked an oversized set of doors with two little windows in each. From the glimpse he got, the doors led to a long hallway, teeming with staff in an array of colorful scrubs.

  Those doors slowly swung open and two doctors carrying on an intense conversation strode through. By the fast clip of their steps, all was not right in their world.

  Personnel hustled with their “important” tasks, and the door behind him constantly opened and closed.

  No one cared about him at all. Just the way he liked it. If there was one place in the world where he wouldn’t stand out, it was a hospital. A guy with a prosthetic arm wouldn’t be looked at twice, everyone wrongly assuming he was here about that.

  The flurry of activity back at the Cerise had gotten his attention. It hadn’t taken long to overhear a bunch of suits talking about the attack on Michelle’s parents. Was it a fluke, or was there another player involved? Griffin eyed the area again. He didn’t recognize anyone in the oversized waiting room to his right, nor did it feel like anyone here didn’t belong . . . Of course, that last part didn’t mean a thing. SBG operatives were trained extensively on how to blend in.

  He had done everything Victor had asked, so no one else should’ve been assigned to the mission. A sliver of unease oozed down his spine. Victor hadn’t exactly had the best couple of weeks. Had the former CEO gotten wind of Griffin’s own agenda and sent someone to ensure he stayed on task?

  He instantly rejected the thought. He hadn’t told a soul. The last contact he had was the text message giving him the green light to kill April and plant the envelope. That had gone without a misstep, buying him some time for this unexpected opportunity.

  Then what about that phone call when he was finishing up? The Senator’s voice was unmistakable on Victor’s phone. Griffin had no answers and couldn’t stand in the lobby debating it any longer.

  He slowly perused the area and found exactly what he’d hoped to find. Filling the top half of the wall panel beside the automatic doors was a map of the hospital, laid out neatly by floors. He meandered over, as if he only wanted to kill time, and studied the drawings. IGH spanned two city blocks, with multiple buildings. The main building he currently stood in was the largest and housed five floors. Three parking garages—north, south, and west—gave the hospital a new-age appearance with their skywalks connecting them to the main hospital. The rest of the buildings consisted of outpatient and specialty services.

  He only cared about one department. Intensive Care Unit. He scanned each floor’s layout and found his goldmine on the fourth floor, south section. The ICU took up a lot of the south side. Two stairwells could become potential escape routes for Cappy and Michelle since two floors down, a skywalk would take them to the south parking garage. Something he’d have to account for.

  Victor could screw himself if he thought Griffin would pass up this gem to take out the man who ruined his life. An inkling of fear trickled in his veins. Victor would fuck Griffin eight times as bad if this screwed up his master plan. Griffin lifted his chin. He’d have to make sure he succeeded, then disappeared, that’s all.

  A small twinge gripped him at missing out on a close-quarter fight. He wanted to see Cappy’s eyes when the asshole realized exactly who killed him and why. But this unexpected twist was sure to bring the pair out of hiding and it beat having to track them down when he finally got the green light.

  Griffin memorized the surrounding streets and left before anyone had a chance to approach him. He hiked his ratty backpack higher on his shoulder, then almost ripped the handle off when his prosthetic spasmed during the release. Goddamn it! Too many years of hard work and careful planning couldn’t be wasted because his goddamn hand malfunctioned.

  He stormed around the block and continued weaving through the pedestrians. Once he came abreast of the southeast section, he crossed the street and started scouting for spots to hide.

  His cell phone vibrated and he managed to take it out of his back pocket after two tries. A strange number he’d never seen before appeared on the screen. Take it or not?

  The phone buzzed again.

  Not. If in some weird world it was Victor, he didn’t need the added stress of coming up with an excuse to delay executing the latest command. His nerves were frayed enough already.

  He rejected the call and pocketed the phone. A minute later the voice mail tone chimed. Whatever. Plenty of time
to listen to it after he celebrated his success.

  He climbed a set of stairs and set about searching for the right sight lines. Three locations later, he finally found a space in an empty office that allowed him to see almost the entire ICU waiting room through its line of windows.

  He methodically assembled the sniper rifle, clearing his mind with each piece, until he reached a Zen phase. Now all he had to do was wait for Cappy and Michelle to inevitably show.

  ***

  Wraith trekked toward the roof’s edge of the supply warehouse across the street from the hospital’s entrance. She settled into as comfortable a position as she could and peered through the rifle’s scope. She missed her original rifle fiercely. It had taken her years to alter and build the weapon into a highly honed extension of her, only to have to sacrifice it to the bomb she set off in her plight to escape Victor.

  This new rifle she bought days ago felt awkward and weird. Kind of like moving into a new home. It didn’t have the same comfort as the old home, but thrilling with its endless possibilities to do so much good, yet terrifying in that she could fuck it all up . . . again.

  Families, staff, and patients crowded the sidewalk near the entrance. Some were smoking, others were gabbing, while the rest hustled into and out of the building. The hospital was massive. No way could one sniper cover it all.

  She flicked her mic feed open and spoke in a low voice. “Talon, I’m positioned to cover the entrance.”

  “Check,” came a terse reply.

  Wraith rolled her eyes. You can’t avoid “the conversation” any longer. Her gut clenched. She swallowed and took the plunge. “Look, Talon, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Don’t, Wraith,” Talon snapped. “Just don’t say anything.”

  “But we should ta—”

  “Talk about it? Seriously. What’s left to say? I know you overheard me say I’m in love with you when Grady and I were fighting.”

  Well, that answers that gnawing question. Remorse shot through her heart at the memory of the two men duking it out in the rain over her.