Shadow of Doubt (An SBG Novel Book 2)

by P. A. DePaul

  “Check.” Cappy straightened and grabbed Michelle’s hand. Without another word, he hauled ass to the exit, bypassing the blue-barred gate preventing cars from leaving without paying.

  ***

  Talon cleared the shards of glass off the back driver’s side window of the Hyundai and climbed through. Once he settled into the driver’s seat he called on the skills he learned from his years of living on the streets and hot-wired it within moments.

  Popping the trunk, he heaved the little Colombian bastard’s body into the cavity and slammed the lid. He put all the windows down to hide the one smashed and tuned the radio to a hard rock station. Flipping the mic off on his comm, he cranked the volume.

  An enthusiastic pounding beat blasted out of the stock speakers, vibrating the door panels and rumbling through his seat cushion. Sorry-ass cheap speakers.

  Whatever. As long as all the focus was on him and not Cappy and Michelle, it didn’t matter.

  Backing the car out, he drove through the lot and paused at the annoying barrier. Where was—

  There. He snatched the ticket with the time stamp for entering the garage off the dashboard and fed it into the machine. $7.00 flashed up on the readout.

  “Rip off.”

  He fished his cash out and fed a five and two ones into the slot.

  Just for effect, he did some air drumming for anyone looking at the rude guy who had no couth. The gate lifted and he gunned the car forward. Pausing at the STOP sign, he noted he had definitely attracted some attention from a few passersby. Good. If they were staring at him, then they weren’t noticing Cappy hustling Michelle over a large grassy area toward the apartment complex across the street.

  Sirens wailed with their annoying pitch. A set of cars with red and blue twirling lights turned onto the two-lane street from both the north and south directions.

  He banged on the steering wheel and a set of imaginary cymbals. After one more “cymbal” crash, he pulled onto the street. About a half mile down, he pulled even with the marked car zooming toward him. Acting like the typical civilian, Talon openly gawked with his mouth wide as it raced past. His gaze flew to his review mirror and watched the cop car careen into the parking garage.

  Talon breathed out. He made a left at the end of the road and went in search of the local chop shop.

  The car and Ignacio Ramirez needed to disappear.

  Chapter 56

  Michelle slapped a hand against the cool brick of the apartment building and sucked in as much air as possible. Her whole body trembled, and not just for her lack of being in shape.

  Nacio’s last moments of gargling and gagging kept playing over and over.

  Bile rose to her throat and she clapped a palm over her mouth. She had never seen anyone die before. Murdered, no less . . . Granted, the little bugger had tried to kill her, then forced Talon to act in self-defense, but still. He died. Raging one minute and then . . . and then . . .

  She swallowed. Hard.

  “Michelle,” Jeremy said curtly, but without a biting sting. “I need you to hold it together for a little bit longer, okay?”

  She nodded, peering through the line of evergreen trees planted along the whole side of the building to stare at the little bit of grass before the next line of trees up against another building.

  “Sorry,” she replied hoarsely. “You’d think with my past I wouldn’t be freaked out over Nacio’s . . .”

  Jeremy’s eyes softened and he paused opening the black-and-blue backpack. “I get it. You have nothing to be sorry for, but we’re still in deep shit.”

  She straightened. “You’re right.” She lifted her chin. “Tell me what to—”

  The faint sound of sirens from a moment ago now pierced the air. Her blood froze. “Oh God,” she exclaimed. “The police are here.”

  “Yes,” Cappy agreed tightly. He whipped his black turtleneck off and tossed it at her.

  She fumbled to catch it and managed to hold on by the cuff, her whole body now barely functioning properly from the pounds of HOLY FUDGE pouring through her veins. The police were on their way!

  “Wipe your face as best you can,” Jeremy instructed. “The makeup’s smeared and run to the point you’d attract attention.”

  “Jeremy!” she exclaimed. “You’re hurt.”

  “You’re hurt?” “What happened?” “How bad?” filled her earpiece.

  “Not to sound all Monty Python, but it’s just a flesh wound. Nothing serious, people.”

  She chewed on her lip, her eyes drawn to the wound.

  “Really, Michelle. It’s nothing.” He peered down and grimaced. “Okay. I admit, the blood trailing from the crease doesn’t back my words, but believe me, I’ve had worse. Don’t concentrate on it. Michelle, you need to get that stuff off your face.”

  Frustrated she couldn’t do anything for him, she jammed the cloth against her cheek and rubbed as best she could so they could get out of here quicker. He needed to have that wound looked at ASAP.

  “Ted, Grady,” Cappy barked, sliding to the end of the building and peering around the corner toward the hospital. “I need exfil now. Police have surrounded the hospital. Only a matter of time before they start spreading out.”

  “Head east to Indiana Avenue,” Grady replied. “The number ten bus will take you almost to our position.”

  Michelle was so proud at not clawing at her ear anymore whenever someone spoke. She pulled the shirt away and grimaced at the pancake foundation filling the cloth. She swiped again for good measure but nothing more came off.

  Cappy jogged back. “Shit. I forgot Indianapolis doesn’t have a subway system.” He reached into the backpack and pulled out two sweatshirts. He dropped the bag and took his turtleneck back.

  “Here.” He thrust a gray sweatshirt at her. “Put this on and tuck the neck of your sweater inside its collar so it’s not seen. The color is too distinct.”

  She took the sweatshirt and opened the front to see a race car with INDIANAPOLIS 500 bursting across the top. “But what about the throat thingy?”

  Cappy ripped the arm off the turtleneck and wiped the blood off his bicep with the remains.

  Michelle took the loose arm and fit it around his bicep. Her hands trembled and a coppery scent infiltrated her nose. Oh God. She was inhaling his blood. You know, from the wound he received while protecting her. Sweat broke out all over her body and she had the sudden urge to throw up. She was the cause of this.

  “A little tighter,” he instructed, breaking into her spiraling panic and helping to ground her in the now. They didn’t have time for her to lose it. She cinched the cloth into a knot.

  “Excellent job.” He tossed the useless turtleneck inside the pack and pawed through the contents. “Use this around your neck. That’ll cover the throat mic.”

  He handed her a scarf. A very ugly scarf with muted colors she wasn’t even sure had names. Then he slapped a baseball cap on her head.

  He dropped the bag again and put on a dark green sweatshirt. Another Indianapolis 500 image spread across the front, but this one had checkered flags.

  She draped the scarf around her throat and grimaced at the way it scratched her skin. What the heck was the thing made of? She tried to ignore the urge to itch and pulled the hat off her head to adjust the back. The horseshoe emblem of the Indianapolis Colts adorned the front. Between the sweatshirt and the hat she was definitely projecting city pride. She gathered her hair and stuffed it through the back of the hat and fiddled with it until it sat right.

  Cappy pulled a second hat out and cursed. “I swear to God, Grady. I will enjoy getting you back.”

  Grady laughed. “Ah. So you either have the pack with the Wish-You-Were-Hair cap or the pack with the oversized bill and the Mine’s-Longer-Than-Yours saying. Nice.”

  Cappy growled as he shoved the black Wish-You-Were-Hair hat on his head
and zipped the backpack closed.

  “Like I said, you only gave me five minutes to shop. Be lucky I found this much.”

  “Cappy.” Agent Stiles’ voice broke in. “A contingent of FBI agents have arrived along with more U.S. Marshals. They’re coordinating a search grid with the local police. Get out of there now.”

  The adrenaline in Michelle’s system tripped into overload. Cappy clamped his hand around hers and she winced, her bruises protesting his tight hold. No way was she going to say a word though. If anyone could get them out of this mess, he could.

  He pulled her through the trees but she dug her heels in.

  “Wait,” she called.

  He stopped and his eyes flashed. “We have to move.”

  “I know but your throat thingy is showing.” She pointed to the black nylon strap. “Aren’t you supposed to hide it or something?”

  He scowled. “Everyone, be advised I will only have my earpiece. Michelle’s right, this is too conspicuous. Pick my voice up from hers.”

  A flurry of “Checks” and clicks returned as Cappy undid the strap and shoved it inside his sweatshirt.

  “Come on.” He re-gripped her hand and set the pace. They didn’t exactly run but the walk was pretty darn close to trying. Good Lord. She really needed to start an exercise plan. His path through the complex was so convoluted she was pretty sure they circled some parts twice.

  Bright-yellow school buses growled and squealed as they dropped kids at various points throughout. Pockets of middle-school-aged kids horsed around while others began their trek toward the buildings.

  Cappy skillfully threaded them past a little gatehouse sitting at the entrance of the complex using the groups and chugging buses. Indiana Avenue stretched before them and a steady stream of cars passed in both directions. Jeremy continued their even pace along the sidewalk and she couldn’t help stealing a glance at every car that passed. Nothing looked out of place to her.

  “Once we get to the bus stop,” Jeremy murmured, “I need for you to keep your head turned into me as much as possible. Okay?”

  She nodded, her throat too dry to speak.

  It didn’t take long to reach the bus stop. A long park bench claimed the middle of the area, but Cappy bypassed it. He planted his back against the fence and curled her into his embrace. The sudden peace she had in his arms was overwhelming. She ducked her head, causing the brim of her hat to lift, but she didn’t care. She refused to give up this little bit of oasis after so many terror-filled moments.

  The muscles in Jeremy’s body stiffened and she lifted just enough to peek over his arm. Holy sugar. A half mile up, two cop cars cruised the avenue, one behind the other. Their lights were off but their appearance felt so ominous.

  “Don’t look at them,” he whispered, his face now only inches from hers.

  She knew he was trying to distract her, and for the most part it was working, but her urge to start running made her over-tired legs tingle.

  The deep rumble of a bus engine growled and lumbered into view.

  Fear lanced down her spine. “Jeremy, won’t there be too many people on the bus? Shouldn’t we take a cab or something?”

  Jeremy nuzzled her cheek but she knew he still watched the cop cars gliding closer toward their position. “It’s a valid point, but the bigger the conveyance the more you’re largely ignored.” He feathered kisses along her temple and the tingling in her toes was no longer about fear. “A cabbie only has the passengers in his backseat to focus on whereas a bus has people getting on and off constantly.”

  A loud squelch of air brakes rent the air behind her.

  “The bigger problem is the potential for cameras, but it’s a risk we have to take,” Cappy finished, straightening and throwing an arm over her shoulders. “Look at the ground when you walk forward. Nowhere else. Got it?”

  “Yep.” She forced herself to stare at the line in the cement separating the sidewalk blocks.

  “Yo! Get in!” a female voice called.

  Michelle whipped her head over to see a black BMW just behind the bus. She had seen the car before.

  “Now. While we have the cover of the bus,” the voice yelled.

  Isis?

  The bus opened its doors and a small group stepped off. Cappy grabbed her arm and jogged through the crowd, opening the back passenger side of the BMW.

  “Jump in and lay down,” Jeremy ordered.

  She didn’t waste any time doing just that. She had only just glimpsed the profile of the Senator in the driver’s seat when Cappy climbed in and . . . oh dear God, laid right on top of her.

  The car started moving and Jeremy rumbled something to Isis but she couldn’t make out the words.

  Sweat popped along her hairline and panic edged her vision. She swallowed and tried to tell herself she was all right, but it wasn’t working. Air constricted in her lungs and she wheezed to gather a breath.

  Heavy.

  The weight.

  A man on top of her.

  Bad things happen when . . .

  The body shifted and vertigo gripped her as she was flipped around.

  Clothing still pressed against her cheek but instead of a crushing weight, she now felt lighter.

  “Better?” a deep voice rumbled against her ear and she blinked.

  Isis peered through the seats, a frown marring her face.

  Michelle inched her chin up. Cappy had shifted their positions. She now lay on top of him.

  Chapter 57

  Griffin punched the steering wheel of his rental car again. He stared at the plain facade of his hotel and replayed every single fuck up in his head.

  What kind of horseshoe did Cappy have shoved up his ass?

  Griffin raised his prosthetic arm and turned his hand outward. The hole marring the center would’ve normally ended his career . . . if it wasn’t fake. It was a beautiful shot. A perfect shot to force him off their tails.

  Boiling rage consumed him. Years of hard work and discipline. Training to compensate for the fake arm’s limitations wasted.

  He missed.

  Three times.

  Well, the second time got the pompous asshole’s arm, but whoop-de-do. That could be patched in a blink.

  He curled the hand into a fist. Sure, now it listened to him.

  A couple strolled from their car toward the automatic doors. Their lovey-dovey looks and too-cutesy holding hands made him want to barf.

  Griffin sat up.

  He thought back to how Cappy practically blended Michelle’s body into his. The way he hovered like a protective bear when they were leaning against the wall. The two of them had instant chemistry from the start. Had they grown even closer during the latest plight? It would appear they have.

  A slow grin spread across his face and the rage simmered to anger. He needed to figure out how he wanted to play this.

  His phone buzzed once and he took it out of his pocket. The voice mail icon flashed, reminding him of the phone call. Part of him didn’t want to listen to it, but he needed to get it over with.

  “Griffin.” Victor’s voice blared through the speaker. “Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you answering? Listen, don’t use that other phone number anymore. It’s been compromised.”

  “No shit,” Griffin muttered, recalling the Senator’s voice.

  “The warden here has overstepped his bounds. Unleashed the gangs on me. He needs to be taken care of. You hear me?”

  Explained the reedy raspy sound in Victor’s voice. Bastard was now on the other end of justice.

  “I’ve worked a deal with one of the gangs inside. I’ll need you to take care of an errand for them, then I can continue using this phone number.”

  No way in hell was Griffin going to get caught up in gang issues. He may be a trained killer, but he wasn’t a stupid one. Mess with a gang and
you’ll be looking over your shoulder for life.

  Griffin hung up, uninterested in hearing the details of Victor’s suicidal mission.

  An image of Cappy staring down at Michelle rose up. He had his own justice to exact.

  ***

  Cappy hovered in the entrance foyer of the cottage in Greenwood. He positioned Michelle beside him and he faced Isis and the Senator.

  “Thank you so much for coming to our aid,” Cappy said again. He had already thanked them in the car, but figured it would be good form to say it again before he kicked them out. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect to see you back in Indianapolis, Senator.”

  Rage and grief oozed out of the man, twisting Cappy’s gut. “The bastard who took my wife and son is here.”

  True.

  “Ted and Grady kept me informed,” Isis supplied, shifting closer to the politician. “The minute it all turned south, the Senator and I figured out a way we could lend a hand.”

  “Well, you timed your arrival perfectly.”

  “Naturally.” Isis preened.

  Suspicious choking filled his earpiece.

  “You all right, Mag?” Romeo asked.

  Right. Everyone needed to go. He pulled his throat mic out of his sweatshirt and strapped it on. After powering it up, he said in a full voice, “People, I want to thank you for your efforts. Everyone had a hand in helping Michelle and I out of that mess. That being said, as you make your way back, no one is to step a foot in Cottage One.”

  Michelle jerked and stared up at him.

  “I have some private matters to discuss with Michelle.”

  Her face blossomed bright red and her eyes dilated.

  “Role call to show your understanding of this command and consent to follow.”

  Every member of his team, including Ted, replied with their name.

  Isis lifted an eyebrow, her lips spreading into a cat-like grin.

  Michelle studied the floor.

  “Cappy, we need to plan,” the Senator blustered.

  “And we will, but not now,” Cappy replied with a hard edge. “You can have a pow-wow with the team in Cottage Two if you’d like, but I’m talking to Michelle first.”