Shadow of Doubt (An SBG Novel Book 2)

by P. A. DePaul

  Michelle gasped and thumped him on the chest.

  “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” The unmistakable sound of Ted’s voice carried in from outside. Was it that late already? He peeked at his watch. 10:49 a.m.

  Wraith and Grady greeted the others, reminding him how too many people now congregated on the stoop, potentially drawing attention to the cottage. Ted’s reckoning would have to wait, but not for long. This could not happen again.

  “Okay to come in,” he yelled, gripping Michelle’s arm. He walked backward with her to the high-backed chair in the corner of the room.

  At first she resisted but instantly became pliable at the flood of people crossing the threshold.

  The postage-stamp-sized living room was not meant to hold a raging Senator, a suspected murderer, six lethal SBG operatives in their physical prime, a former Marine—also in his prime, a computer genius, and various pieces of luggage.

  All gathered together to answer one question. What the hell was going on?

  Chapter 30

  Oh my God. Somehow more folks managed to join this sadistic party than at the pool!

  Michelle blinked and couldn’t stop trembling. Who are all these people?

  Power, strength, and confidence oozed from their attractive pores. Not to mention the awesome lethalness she sensed from the vast majority in the room.

  Every cell inside screamed at her to run, hide, do something other than stand in the corner and quake. Cappy rested his hand on her back and she hated how she instantly felt comforted. She shouldn’t . . . but she did. Daggone him. FBI agent or a derivative of some agency was the last person she should be cuddling against and drawing strength.

  “Michelle.” Cappy’s use of her name pulled her away from studying the group now overwhelming the small cottage. “No one’s here to hurt you.” He pointed to the chair. “Sit, please.”

  As if she really had another choice. She made a promise and now had to see it through. She dropped into the uncomfortable straight-backed chair and instantly shifted. A spring or something was out of line, digging into her butt.

  Cappy accepted a box from Gorgeous Woman and placed it on the floor beside the chair. Before she realized his intentions, he knelt, gripped the hole in her sweatpants with both hands and tore the fabric apart. The ripping sound made her wince. When he got to the elastic bottom, he used a pair of scissors he pulled from the box.

  Michelle’s nervous shaking intensified as nine pairs of eyes continued to watch her. Dang. She wished he’d clued her in on his plan. She’d have asked for him to patch her up somewhere else without the audience.

  He spread the fabric and air rushed over the exposed long gash on her knee.

  “It doesn’t need stitches, does it?” she asked Cappy softly, though she wasn’t sure why she bothered. The silence in the room assured that everyone heard the question.

  “It might of,” he replied in his low, rumbly voice. “But it’s too late to go that route now.” He met her gaze with a deep regret. “I’m sorry, but it’s probably going to leave a scar.”

  Figures. Another mark to add to her collection. She shrugged and tried to play off how much hearing that bothered her. “Nothing we can do about it now, right?”

  His brown eyes deepened.

  The Senator loomed closer. “You may have compromised Cappy, but you don’t have me wrapped around your finger. I want to know exactly what happened Friday night.”

  “Senator,” Jeremy barked, peering over his shoulder.

  “No.” The politician pointed a finger. “I’ve waited long enough. I’m not letting you drag this out, playing Nurse Nightingale. She can answer questions while you bandage her leg.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Michelle blurted, then winced. Real smooth. Very convincing.

  Now that she got past the shock of the Senator’s behavior by the pool, she knew she had to stand up to the man herself. Men like Bob Harris only respected those who held their own ground, and right now she needed every advantage if she hoped to convince him and the rest to believe her. Lifting her chin, she said with feigned authority, “And I’m not saying another word until I at least get a name for every person in this room.”

  “You don’t need to know a name to goddamn tell me what happened,” Senator Harris shot back, his face a deeper shade of red.

  Cappy dropped the cotton full of hydrogen peroxide and started to whirl but Michelle placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He searched her face but she looked away, capturing the politician’s eyes. Pain, fury, fear, and too many other emotions flitted through his irises, reminding her the man just lost his son. He was probably still a jerk on a normal day but she should forgive his intensity.

  “Need?” she repeated, praying Cappy couldn’t hear or feel her thundering pulse. “Probably not, but everyone here saw that freaking YouTube video, which means they know more about me than I’d ever want them to. I don’t think asking for a name before we start the conversation is too much to ask.”

  Jeremy patted her leg and she caught his proud smile out of the corner of her eye. She let out a breath . . . and got a butt full of spring.

  Great. Small accomplishment about to be undermined by fidgeting. She shifted forward as minimally as she could.

  “That’s fair, Senator,” Cappy said, turning his back to the TV, half facing her and the others. “You know mine and Talon’s. Stiles, you start. State it all.”

  All?

  Gorgeous Man exchanged a quick undecipherable look with Cappy then raised a hand and offered a pleasant smile. “I’m Special Agent Raymond Stiles and this is my partner, Special Agent Sonya White.” He indicated to Gorgeous Woman beside him.

  “Special Agent?” Michelle echoed, her vision dimming. Suspecting their affiliation was one thing, having it confirmed . . .

  Cappy squeezed her right leg. “The blond woman standing beside Senator Harris is—”

  “Special Agent Isis Howard,” she cut in, striking a pose as if in a photo shoot.

  WTH? She expect applause?

  “FBI?” Michelle couldn’t help asking the obvious.

  “Yes,” Cappy answered.

  Had the air in the room gotten heavier?

  Jeremy pointed to the newcomers, Autumn Barbie and Ken. “Sandra Walsh and Casper Grady. Associates here to help me.” He shifted. “And you’re sort of familiar with the man awkwardly holding up the wall beside the TV.”

  The guy she had dubbed Bill Gates the moment he entered the cottage jerked and his face grew red as he raised a hand in a weak wave.

  “Ted Byrnes,” Cappy announced. “Aka the travel agent to you. To others he’s the computer guy.”

  She attempted to inhale but hardly any air made it to her lungs. Sweat pooled under her arms and she wished she hadn’t asked the question. FBI, a Senator/father, associates, computer expert . . . what rabbit hole had she fallen into Friday night to induce this nightmare?

  “In fact,” Cappy said, “Ted, you don’t need to stand here for this. You want to get set up on the dining room table? I’m sure there are some projects needing your attention while you listen in.”

  He seemed relieved to be dismissed and wasted no time disappearing. How refreshing. Bill Gates didn’t want to gawk at her while she tried to hold it together and convince everyone she wasn’t a murderer.

  “Everyone is here to find out what happened to Colin,” Cappy said in the silence. “Remember that. It’s not about accusing you, it’s about learning all the facts so we can answer that question correctly, okay?”

  Michelle shifted again and surreptitiously glanced at the who’s who of folks not to be in the same room with when suspected of murder. Her heart lodged firmly in her throat and her nerves made her palms itch. Her eyes landed on Jeremy and a small river of shock helped snap her out of her head. His wide, expansive chest was still exposed. Why the sight shook
her when she knew she hadn’t given him his shirt back, she had no clue, but his muscled pecs drew her in.

  He shifted his crouch, breaking the hypnotic spell and moved to tend to her knee again.

  Yeah, bet everyone in the room caught her drooling at the man. Rice on a stick. Would she ever be suave at least once in her life?

  “Now that we wasted enough time,” the Senator rumbled, “What happened Friday night?”

  Ho boy. No more putting it off. The thin layer of sweat on her palms doubled and she swallowed. “Like I said, you’ve all seen the YouTube video.”

  “Yes, but back up to the beginning,” Cappy said, ripping open a bandage package. The sound seemed overly loud in the silent room. “What made you go to the club?”

  Chapter 31

  Cappy smashed the ends of the bandage as gently as he could, trying to ignore the scars visible on her skin. Every time he saw one, his blood pressure rocketed, making him lose focus. Who was he kidding? Just touching her skin made him lose focus even though it was completely inappropriate.

  Michelle shifted for the millionth time. Was his question really that difficult to answer?

  “A coworker of mine scored passes to attend the grand opening of Ardent,” Michelle answered, her hands firmly clasped together.

  “You make it a habit of hitting all the bars?” Senator Harris belligerently asked. Cappy had just about enough of the man’s bullying.

  Michelle’s cheeks reddened, but she lifted her chin and looked the man in the eyes. “No, actually I don’t. Thanks for assuming.”

  Cappy held in a snicker. That’s my girl.

  “In fact,” Michelle continued, “I probably wouldn’t have gone Friday if it hadn’t been for Cindy’s birthday. She knew someone connected to the club who gave her the passes as a gift.”

  “You have a name for the person Cindy knew?” Magician asked, holding a pen above a small portfolio notebook.

  Michelle shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t think to ask.”

  “You close to Cindy?” Romeo continued, also holding a pad and pen.

  The two played their roles with ease. Cappy’s knees cracked. He winced. Damn age. He stood to get the blood flowing back through his legs. Small stings and tingles coursed through his veins and he paced to the other side of her chair in an effort to walk them off.

  “Not really.” Michelle shrugged. “I mean, we work together every day, but I don’t see her outside of work, normally.”

  “So why go then?” Isis perched on the edge of the couch.

  Michelle’s ears turned an adorable shade of pink and her gaze hit the carpet. “I wanted to. It had been a long time since I had gone out so when Cindy offered me a chance to go to an exclusive club’s grand opening, I jumped at it.”

  Cappy’s heart tugged. Her stiff posture, clenched hands, and avoided eye contact spoke volumes. He bet she kept herself isolated from everyone, so no one thought to include her in their plans. He wanted to shake Cindy’s hand. The outcome may have been disastrous but at least the woman remembered to invite Michelle.

  “So, you’re at the club,” Senator Harris snapped. “How did you get involved with my son? Why did you choose him?” The intensity of the questions seemed beyond the scope of a grieving father.

  Red flags popped up in Cappy’s head.

  “I’m not much of a drinker, but all these guys kept buying us rounds.” The spots on her cheeks deepened. “I tried to keep up with the other girls, but it only took a few drinks before I was drunk.”

  Cappy gripped the back of the chair. The visual filling his mind of men salivating and groping her in the darkened space made him want to hurt someone. Then his mind twisted the thought and he became ill. Those drinks could’ve been spiked. Didn’t she have one ounce of self-preservation?

  “I’m still waiting for how you targeted Colin.” The Senator crossed his arms. “Not really interested in all this ‘setting the scene.’”

  Her head snapped up. “I didn’t target Colin. He came up to me.”

  “And why would he do that?”

  Michelle recoiled.

  “Hey.” Cappy stepped forward.

  The Senator ignored him, sliding his gaze up and down her body. “You’re not his type.”

  “That’s enough,” Cappy barked, positioning himself beside her. “Questioning her about Friday night, helping us understand the events is fine, but I won’t tolerate you insulting her.”

  “You’re out of line, Cappy,” the Senator responded in a low voice, his hard eyes now focused on him.

  “So are you.”

  They continued to stare at each other.

  “Shall I get a ruler?” Talon’s question broke into the power play.

  “We still have a lot of ground to cover,” Wraith chimed in. “Can we all agree to keep the side commentary and opinions to a minimum?”

  Cappy broke the eye contact and patted Michelle’s shoulder. He wanted to deck the politician for placing the mortification in her eyes. She had to know her curvaceous body and beautiful face would draw any man to her side, despite what the Senator claimed.

  “What did Colin say when he approached?” Magician asked, helping to move the interview forward.

  Michelle’s eyes slid to the Senator once, twice, then she answered with a bit of resignation, “I can’t really recall, but I do remember thinking he was probably talking to me to get to Cindy.” She rubbed her forehead. “I think I offered to introduce them but he laughed and declined.”

  “I can understand why,” Romeo stated with a smile.

  Cappy appreciated the smooth boost of confidence, yet felt a territorial stirring in his gut.

  “Sure. Right.” Michelle gave a weak chuckle and continued to rub her forehead. “He, um, said something about waiting for me.”

  “Waiting for you?” Cappy stiffened. Another red flag began waving.

  She gave a dismissive gesture, her neck now as red as her face. “Yeah, I know it was probably just a line, but as drunk as I was, I thought he was the sincerest, sweetest man on earth. When he turned away to order us another drink, a coworker of mine read me the riot act for holding out and talked me into going back to his hotel room.”

  The territorial stirring amped into a full-blown hissy. Son of a bitch. He knew she had gone. Christ, he had watched proof of her cavorting with the guy on the Internet, but still, Mine kept running through his mind.

  “Anyone else approach either of you before or during your departure?” Wraith asked.

  “Not that I remember.” Michelle’s face scrunched like she tried really hard to recall. “He handed me the drink, I took a sip, and told him I’d go with him. He didn’t waste time closing out his tab after that.”

  I bet.

  Michelle sat forward. “Can you answer a question for me? Is the video the only reason why everyone thinks I did this?”

  Chapter 32

  Nacio rested the sole of his shoe against the brick and casually studied the coffee shop. The couple sat at a little table in front of the window. A map—most likely of Indianapolis—now spread between them and Mr. Alger pointed at something while he spoke. Mrs. Alger seemed in agreement with her over-the-top nodding.

  “Damn,” he muttered. His gut told him they weren’t perusing the map to meet Michelle but to join in the search. He’d have to move to Plan B. Where should he take them down in order to draw Michelle out? Nothing jumped out at him in either direction he looked. Just enough foot traffic clogged the sidewalk on the side street, which wouldn’t allow him to get away with doing it here. Carajo.

  The Algers exited the shop and turned as if to head back to the main street.

  A stroke of brilliance hit him and he actually smacked his head. Why didn’t he think of this before when they had passed that cluttered, narrow alley earlier? He had the perfect ammunition to lure them
away.

  He jogged to catch up, keeping his eyes peeled for another alley. At a break in the storefronts his heart kick-started. This showed promise. One glance revealed he found his spot. Now to bring the Algers back.

  He fiddled with the edge of his flannel shirt, making sure the end still covered the revolver. All set. He quickened his steps and maneuvered until he was within a foot of the couple.

  “. . . great coffee.”

  “Yes,” the wife answered. “I think we should go again tomorrow and try that special the girl talked about.”

  Nacio reached out to tap Mr. Alger on the shoulder when the guy abruptly stopped.

  Even better.

  “Excuse me,” Mr. Alger said to a small group of suited men.

  Nacio slammed his hand to his side and turned away. Dammit. Feds?

  “Can you show me . . .”

  Nacio couldn’t stick around and wait for the rest of Mr. Alger’s sentence. He found the alley and took a stroll, memorizing the layout of strewn dumpsters. Didn’t matter. He’d catch them later or here tomorrow.

  ***

  Romeo still couldn’t believe the scene unfolding in front of him. Never had he seen Cappy so agitated and so protective in the five years they’d been teamed together. The guy was known for not becoming excitable, being a Boy Scout, and staying cool under pressure, but those traits had started crumbling the moment they gathered around the computer back at Grady’s. First, the man defied SBG’s rules by revealing his real name and a piece of his past, then he ordered everyone to drop their directives and race here, and now his normal pragmatic temperament unraveled to this intense, emotional display.

  Hallelujah and praise Michelle.

  It still blew Romeo’s mind to know the guy had been declared dead by the Army for the past six years. Romeo liked to think his ability to read people was so fine-tuned it was almost an art, but not once had he ever imagined Cappy had that bombshell lurking in his background. Sure, every operative who worked for SBG had pretty much severed ties with their past, but knowing the CO would never have family or friends to call on once he got out was a horrible thought.