Shadow of Doubt (An SBG Novel Book 2)

by P. A. DePaul

  Tense silence built inside the vehicle, making the relatively short drive seem like hours.

  Romeo guided the Suburban through the airport entrance, and Cappy’s gut constricted harder. Asking a civilian to assume a persona, even one as simple as a baggage attendant, was risky. When that same civilian was also a wanted fugitive and the woman who held his heart . . . To call him nervous didn’t begin to cover it.

  “Turn there,” the Senator instructed from the front passenger seat, pointing to the access road with the overlarge sign stating AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

  Romeo complied and drove beside a chain-link fence surrounding the small municipal airport.

  Cappy rubbed his shoulder and pretended to inspect his muscles. In reality, he snuck more peeks into the back.

  Magician shifted beside him and he could’ve sworn he caught a faint smile playing along the edges of her mouth before she glanced out the side window. Damn intuitive woman. She had probably seen every single time he “covertly” looked behind him. Glad his twisting in the wind entertained someone.

  He itched to reach over the seat and pull Michelle up so he could wrap his arms around her. The need to dispel the anger since her failed attempt to kiss him and the compulsion to chase away the fear since he told her about the impending raid thrummed like a dull ache in his chest.

  You are the freaking King of Stupidity.

  The persistent bzzzzzzzzz of a Cessna’s engine as it climbed into the atmosphere momentarily distracted him. The red, orange, and white plane continued upward, then banked to the left on some unknown journey.

  “All right, people,” Cappy stated, his tone full of command.

  Everyone turned to look at him except Romeo, but the operative kept glancing into the mirror to let Cappy know he had the man’s attention.

  “We all know the goal,” he continued. “I don’t care how you do it—bluster, bully, flirt, whatever short of violence—just get Michelle on board undetected.”

  A swift inhale shifted everyone’s focus toward the back. The color of Michelle’s face resembled pasty dough, but she had her chin lifted as if defying her body’s reaction. He caught his proud smile before it could plaster itself lamely across his puss.

  He cleared his throat. “Raymond, Sonya, you’ll meet with the security officials. If you have to use your credentials, do it. Senator Harris, can you help body block with Raymond and Sonya? The goal is to steer whoever’s running security away from the back of the plane.”

  Bob Harris nodded and Cappy continued. “Sandra, get on that plane as fast as you can.”

  “Right,” Sandra/Wraith agreed. “I’m going to claim I have to search the inside before I can clear the Senator to board.”

  “Excellent. Should buy us some time, but don’t dawdle. You’ve got to help Michelle through the hatch.”

  “Check,” Wraith said with a two-fingered salute.

  “Michelle.”

  She startled and swallowed hard.

  “I know all this is new to you.” Cappy gentled his voice—well, as much as his chainsaw tone would allow.

  “You want me to act like the ground crew, right?” she asked, dangling a pair of bulky bright-yellow headphones between her fingers.

  “Right. You’re going to be the airport’s newest baggage attendant. I’m going to distract the real one while you hop onto the conveyor and climb into the cargo hold.”

  Her skin paled a little more. Shit. Was this asking too much of her?

  “Got it,” she said, trying to sound strong, but her voice wobbled.

  “There’s a safety hatch built into the roof of the hold. It’ll be a tight fit but you’ll be able to get through and Sandra will be there to help.”

  Her liquid bronze eyes peered up at him. “Is this actually going to work?”

  “Yes.” What he really wanted to say was It has to, but who the fuck knows. He learned a long time ago to never show anything less than one hundred percent commitment no matter how much he thought a mission would fail. When his soldiers saw him believe in a plan then their confidence boosted, which upped the percentage of success drastically. Fake it until you make it, his sister Jennifer had chanted through her high school years, and it always stuck with him.

  Romeo slowed at a hairpin turn between the fence and the side of a hangar.

  The mac-and-cheese he’d scarfed earlier churned. The operatives accompanying him were the best. They knew the stakes. He needed to trust they’d help Michelle ace this. “Any questions?”

  No one said a word.

  Once the SUV straightened, a long-bodied Airbus private jet loomed into view. It wasn’t as big as Air Force One but it was damn close. The plane sat on the tarmac just outside of a beige hangar and the door in front of the wing was already open with a set of steep stairs leading down to the pavement.

  “Then game faces on, people. It’s go time.”

  Chapter 36

  Sandra pushed on the back of Michelle’s head just as she uttered, “You need to get out of sight.”

  Michelle bent over and prayed she wouldn’t lose her lunch. You can do this. You can do this, she said over and over. How many times in her life would she actually have the opportunity to act out a real-life scenario she always read about in her books?

  “I’m going to exit out of the back and ensure the coast is clear,” Sandra continued explaining, and Michelle latched onto the words like a lifeline. “Once it’s safe, I’ll leave the door open and head up front.”

  The thought of being stuck back here by herself had her stomach revolting.

  “Don’t worry,” Sandra soothed, as if guessing her thoughts. “Cappy’s the absolute best. He’ll do everything he can to help you.”

  The best what? Agent? Spy? Electrician? She wanted to ask so badly, but was afraid that if she opened her mouth, more than words would fly out.

  The gentle motion of the SUV stopped and the engine shut off.

  Dear God. This was it.

  A heavy weight enveloped the crown of her head and she whipped her head up. Jeremy lifted his meaty hand as his face loomed over the seat, concern tinting his irises a richer brown.

  “Sandra, switch places with me,” he ordered gruffly. “I’ll help Michelle exit the vehicle. You can start with the distraction of the baggage attendant and I’ll take over once she’s good to go.”

  Sandra patted her shoulder and hunched into a crouch. A small amount of confusion reigned as the rustle of clothing filled the vehicle. The top of Sonya’s black hair moved toward the front and Sandra waddled along the thin aisle beside the side doors to disappear as well. Cappy’s large frame barely fit in the tight opening but he managed to swing his body around the back of the bench seat and crowded into the rest of the space on the floor.

  God help her, but just his presence surrounding her calmed her nerves. She took a deep breath, drinking him. He cupped her cheeks and stared deeply into her eyes.

  “You’re thinking too hard,” his gravelly voice whispered. “This will be easier than you think. Use your instincts.”

  She pressed her face into his warm fingers, drawing in his strength. He believed she could do this. No way would he put her in a situation where he thought she’d fail. She had absolutely no precedence for those thoughts, but she longed to believe in them just the same.

  The front doors of the Suburban opened and she froze. The tiny bit of peace she had reclaimed fled. Sounds of the airport filled the truck and she couldn’t stop her hands from thrusting forward to grasp his waist. She knocked into the holstered gun at his side and jolted. Oh God. It wouldn’t come down to a shootout would it?

  “Not a thing,” Cappy answered her unspoken question. “Just part of the cover. If pressed, I’m a member of the Senator’s protection detail.” He turned away to gaze out the back window and she felt the loss of his attention more than she cared to
admit.

  The side door opened and Michelle’s lungs seized as the vehicle rocked with Sandra and Sonya jumping out.

  “It’s time.” Cappy’s grip on her face tightened. “Once I go out the back door, I’ll draw anyone I see away. Count to thirty then exit behind me. Carry that bag”—he pointed to a black duffel she had noticed earlier but hadn’t really paid attention to—“and head for the conveyor. Walk like you have every right to climb into the plane, but pay attention to your instincts.”

  Her head spun with all the last-minute instructions.

  “Remember.” He leaned closer, scrambling her senses. “Own it.”

  She searched his eyes and saw only confidence in his irises. “Own it. Right.”

  His remaining hand curled around the back of her neck and pulled her toward his angled head due to her hat. She inhaled the scent of him just as he brushed his lips to hers. The heat from his mouth’s caress shot all the way to her toes and she pressed forward, needing more.

  He broke away, resting his forehead against the brim. “You got this, Michelle.”

  Before she could process all the fuzzy sensations his kiss invited, he let go and huddled near the door. After glancing left, then right, he cranked the handle down and jumped out.

  ***

  The clock ticking in Cappy’s head almost drowned out the minutia of the airport noises. Sounds like the rumble of the souped-up ATV with a tall silver baggage cart sporting a blue curtain idling beside their SUV, the whining of a single-prop plane engine taking-off, the competing noises from radios blaring in the different hangars filling the tarmac all receded to the background. He had less than thirty seconds to assess the situation and deal with the unexpected before Michelle left the truck.

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins, sharpening his senses.

  Romeo had positioned the Suburban mere feet from the wing’s end, nicely tucking them between the stairs in front and opened cargo hold at the rear.

  The Senator, Romeo, and Magician were talking to two men near the jet’s steps. One was dressed in a security-style uniform and other one in a suit. Airport admin? The man in the suit was unexpected. Wrinkle number one, but his operators should be able to handle it. They were already off to the right start. Cappy couldn’t hear anything they said, but he noted his team had situated themselves so the men were turned sideways and a part of the stairway blocked their view.

  Wraith literally had a hold of a young man wearing a loud blue jumpsuit and bright-yellow earphones. The kid couldn’t be more than twenty-one and Cappy was really grasping to give the boy that much maturity. She caressed the baggage attendant’s arm. The goofy smile spreading across the kid’s face spoke volumes about how much he liked the touch, but the slight look of incomprehension told Cappy the attendant probably couldn’t hear a word she said. He’d have to intercede as soon as possible to ensure the boy didn’t turn back toward the cart.

  The conveyor belt for the luggage was stationed near the plane but hadn’t been raised to the lip of the luggage hold yet. Possible wrinkle number two. The conveyor would give her a three-and-a-half foot lift from the ground, and standing on the belt, with her height, should make her tall enough to hop into the compartment. The potential wrinkle was the fact that the belt was almost perpendicular to the ground. She needed to get up onto the belt first before she could “hop” into the luggage hold. Shit. With her injured leg and the unknown factor of whether she had enough upper body strength to pull herself up, he’d have to give her a boost before he relieved Wraith to make this work.

  Michelle popped her head up and peered through the back window. He signaled for her to get down and wait. He could only hope she understood the hand gestures. When she didn’t burst from the back, he breathed out and reassessed the plan.

  “Hey!”

  Cappy cranked his head toward the bellowed call.

  A late-sixtyish-something man, covered head to toe in grease, scuttled across the tarmac. From his angle, he was obviously coming from the hangar behind him. The aging man held up a hand and continued to hustle as fast as his hunched spine would let him.

  “Can I help you?” Cappy responded, keeping one eye on the approaching man and the other on the back of the SUV.

  “You the man in charge? Someone who lee-A-zes for the Senator?” the man asked when he finally reached Cappy’s position. He drew in a long draft of air and smiled. The wrinkles on his face doubled with the action. Tufts of white hair sprang from beneath his red baseball cap, now stained mostly black. The charcoal coveralls he wore were covered in grease and his fingernails were blackened underneath.

  “I am.”

  The mechanic’s head bobbed. “Thought so. You look it.” The old man tipped his head back since Cappy towered over the guy. “Pilots reported a seal within the front lavatory’s toilet wore out. Said they were in line to have a mechanic fix it, but you all called for the plane.” The man shrugged. “Anyway, got it right here.” He held the part up as if proving his point.

  “We really need to get moving,” Cappy answered, dumping a whole lot of we-don’t-have-time-for-this-shit in his voice.

  The man bumped the brim of his cap up and scratched his forehead. The trail of grease melded in with the other smudges from performing that same action countless times over. “Well, I get that,” the mechanic drawled, the smile disappearing from his kind face. “Terrible thing, what done to the Senator’s son. I hope they find that woman and lock ’er up.” He readjusted the brim. “I know we ain’t supposed to interact with the Senator, what with him grievin’ and all, but the pilots ain’t supposed to take off with passengers if it’s broke. They got a checklist they haveta complete.”

  Cappy’s stomach clenched. Fuckety. Fuck. Fuck. This simple op was going to hell fast.

  “How long does it take?” Cappy asked, well aware that Michelle was still waiting in the back of the SUV.

  The smile returned to the old man’s face. “I figure ’bout fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”

  “You’ve got eight,” Cappy responded flatly, then pointed his finger. “Only you. I can’t permit anyone else on board.” The last thing he needed was a bunch of grease-monkeys insisting their expertise was needed when they only wanted to get a look inside the private jet.

  “I’ll do what I can.” The mechanic’s grin widened. “Let me grab my tools. Clock start once I get back?”

  “Nope.”

  The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Worth a try.” He turned his thin frame around and scooted back the way he came.

  Cappy figured he had just enough time to verify with the pilots they actually ordered the part and call an audible on the plan. Goddamn it. None of them were wearing comms since this was supposed to stay low-key, not come off looking like some movie set with them ushering the Senator to a head of state meeting or whatever nonsense Hollywood dreamt up.

  He pulled his phone out and jogged forward, peeking into the back of the Suburban once he drew near. His heart stopped beating and he tripped to a stop. The cargo area was empty. His attention snapped to the back of the plane.

  Michelle had managed to climb onto the belt and was now fooling with the straps of the duffel. Cappy’s heart pounded fiercely in his chest. This was the most vulnerable point of the plan.

  He frantically studied the rest of the team. Wraith’s mouth was drawn tight with strain and the baggage attendant was no longer smiling guilelessly.

  Shit.

  Magician and Romeo both had their badges out and the Senator’s body language screamed I’m pissed off. Grieving-father anger or had the security officer and mystery man done something to provoke the response?

  His gaze flew back to check on Michelle’s progress. She strode up the ramp, her limp very pronounced. She neither looked left nor right, just kept her eyes forward. Did she think she was walking the plank?

  Cappy whirled. The mechanic was heade
d back his way with a red toolbox in one hand and the part in the other.

  FUCK.

  Does he see Michelle? Does he know she doesn’t belong?

  He couldn’t swallow now if someone put a gun to his nads and threatened to shoot them off. Focus, Cappy. Treat this like any other op. What do you do next?

  Identify the weak spot and rectify it.

  Wraith. She needed help with the attendant.

  Feeling better now that he knew how he could help, he sidled up to the pair and held up his phone. “Signal’s weak here. You get reception?”

  The kid blinked a moment, his yellow earphones now hanging around his neck. “Naw. Mine’s good.”

  Cappy flicked a glance over the attendant’s shoulder. The top of Michelle’s body disappeared as she reached the end of the ramp and was swallowed by the plane. The duffel vanished, then a second later, so did her feet.

  Lightheadedness swamped his brain and he breathed out in relief. Biggest hurdle down, but a potential clusterfuck loomed on the horizon.

  “You happy about that?” the kid asked, his face screwed up in pure confusion.

  “Hell yeah,” Cappy chuckled to help cover his reacting to Michelle instead of the kid’s answer. He started typing a group text to his team. “That means I got an excuse to trade this one in.”

  The kid opened his mouth but was cut off by the mechanic’s shout. “I got seven minutes left.” The old man beelined for the stairs instead of meeting Cappy.

  Shit. The man may be working up front but Cappy needed Wraith on board to make sure Michelle didn’t pop out of the hatch. Cappy had no idea if the mechanic had to also adjust something in the back.

  Wraith’s eyes when she casually peered his way were full of What the fuck?

  “Mechanic needs to fix a seal on the front toilet or the pilots aren’t cleared for takeoff,” Cappy explained, feeling the vise around his chest squeezing. He had no way to signal Michelle to wait, and every single one of them were stuck outside. “Need you to clear the plane.” He jiggled his phone, knowing Wraith would understand he sent her a message. “We can’t keep the Senator out here much longer.”