Shadow of Doubt (An SBG Novel Book 2) (14 page)

Talon adjusted the new black baseball cap he had bought to minimize the bandages on his face and rested his head against the high-backed chair. Gazing out the living room window with the lights off, he could see the nighttime activity clearly. Not that anything worth looking at resided out there. Instead, he only had to peer up the hallway to find the drama.

Cappy had bolted out of bed when ear-piercing shrieks blasted out of Michelle’s room. Moments later, the house became suspiciously silent and remained that way. With sparks flying between the two all afternoon, the man would have to be seriously dense—which Cappy wasn’t—or in major denial—most likely the case—to think he could keep his distance.

Christ, that kiss he had interrupted earlier about steamed the sliding glass doors. That alone told him it would be up to him to keep the man’s focus on the Senator’s directive instead of allowing his teammate to be led astray. Nailing the woman tonight should help get the craving out of Cappy’s system; after that, all bets were off.

Talon pulled out the thin leather strap he had knotted around his neck and stroked the three-headed spiraling dragon pendant. The team’s symbol, with each head representing strength, courage, and wisdom, meant they were tied together and looked out for one another. Even when a teammate didn’t believe he needed help.

They had all agreed to wear the necklaces as a way to solidify their bond upon Wraith’s suggestion and he had sketched the three-headed dragon based on the tattoo above his left pec. The one he and his small crew had gotten in the days when he used to live on the streets, fighting to stay alive and avoiding the gangs.

Having the pendant marked the team as his family. Seeing it nestled around Grady’s neck this morning felt like a slap all over again.

Talon blinked away the moisture daring to fill his eyes at the memory of Wraith declaring her love for Casper. He refused to be a cliché by sitting in the dark, crying over a heartbreak. Hardening his heart and plotting revenge were more his style, though he had no plans to get even with Wraith. Casper, though? He’d like to go a second round with that bastard and fight with his usual dirty tactics instead of fairly like he did last time. But he doubted he’d get the chance.

Better if he could just avoid the topic of love all together. What the hell did he know about it anyway? Every couple he had seen growing up seemed miserable. They usually ended in divorce . . . or worse, one killed the other to escape. If only his teammates would cooperate.

Talon scratched the stubble on his chin. If he wanted to be objective, Michelle’s tall body did complement Cappy’s muscular, built-like-a-sparkplug frame nicely. But he’d go no further than that. The woman got herself mixed up in this mess for a reason. She wasn’t completely innocent, no matter how much Cappy protested otherwise.

***

Michelle pressed her lips against his.

Oh God, he wanted this so bad, but he couldn’t get in any deeper. Cappy jerked back and shot off the bed, inadvertently knocking her on her ass.

“Sorry.” He scrambled to lift her to her feet, then paced toward the window. The full moon reflected against the dark, empty cottage next door. He turned, deciding to discipline himself with some old fashioned self-loathing. “I guess you just got the answer to the question you hurled at me earlier.”

Deep creases formed on her forehead. “Answer?”

“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth, “I
do
know what it’s like to have someone’s death on my conscience. Try having five.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Stupidly, he allowed her to slide against his body and cup his cheek.

“What do you have to be sorry about?” he fired back, angry he told her what had happened and angry he had allowed it to happen in the first place. “It was my fuck-up.”

She caressed his face. “You did it to avenge me.” She pressed her breasts against his bare chest, the thin long-sleeved T-shirt doing nothing to hide her hard nipples.

His dick surged against his zipper and he inhaled her scent. God, she was beautiful. He gripped her hands framing his face. The guilt and the memory of killing his unit were now a part of him. That he lived while they had died following his orders served as a reminder that he was responsible for everyone around him. He didn’t deserve to be comforted and he for damn sure shouldn’t be tempted by the desire blatantly radiating from her body.

“You call it avenge, I call it murder,” he retorted, squeezing her hands. “It was my responsibility to keep those men safe, to ensure they made it back to their families at the end of the mission.”

The yellow flecks in her bronze eyes deepened. “You didn’t murder them, Jeremy. The Osvaldo Cartel did.”

“Splitting hairs. My selfish order led them into that trap.”

Somehow she shifted closer and he didn’t have the strength to pull away a second time. Their chemistry connection speared through him, exactly like it had six years ago in that hellhole. What was it about this woman that made him weak? Made him want to throw out all his arguments to stay away from her?

She rose on her toes, her eyes searching his as she leaned in. “Then I’m selfish for rejoicing in hearing that building no longer exists.”

He could have stopped her,
should
have stopped her, but anger and remorse churned heavily together, making him want to lash out. Blame her for his fucked-up lapse in judgment all those years ago. Punish her for undermining his self-control now and causing him to want something he couldn’t have.

He closed the small gap and crushed his mouth against hers. Her lips parted and he delved inside, savagely taking control. His tongue dueled with hers, imposing his dominance and fueling his lust for more.

She moaned and he captured the vibration, allowing it to dance along his tongue as he consumed her mouth. She tasted even sweeter than earlier, causing his blood to boil.

This is wrong
. He angled his head to deepen the penalizing kiss and dropped his hands to squeeze her full breasts through the fabric. Goddamn it, he needed to end this—

Michelle gripped his shoulders and met his conquering tongue with her own, matching his uncontrollable hunger.
Fucking A
. His dick jumped, pushing against her stomach.

He lifted the back of her shirt, sliding his fingers underneath her waistband, molding his fingertips against her skin.

She stiffened and wrenched away, uttering a small sob. One of her hands flew to the bottom of her throat and the other over mouth.

He curled his hands into fists, breathing in and out heavily. Those goddamn bastards. The hard ridges under his touch had been numerous in that small section he sampled. They had treated her like an animal and he had been no better now.

“Fuck.” He swiped his palms up his face and rested them on top of his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

“I think it was mutual,” she replied, dropping her hands, but he watched them tremble.

“Maybe, but I take the blame. It’s not your fault what happened to my men and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Taken it out on me?” she repeated, still shaking.

“Yes. I meant what I said earlier. We can’t do this. I shouldn’t have touched you—”

“Because I disgust you?” she hurled at him out of nowhere, moisture forming in her eyes.

He blinked. “
What?
Wh—”

“Why did I fool myself into believing you’d be any different?” The tears fell freely down her cheeks and he had no clue what the hell he said to cause such a strong reaction.

“One small taste of what riddles my body and you—”

“Now wait just a goddamn minute,” he thundered, finally getting a clue. “
You
wrenched away from
me
.
You
stopped the kiss.”

“It would’ve only been a few more seconds before your gag reflex took over and you’d have bolted out of the room.”

Her words felt like a slap. “Bullshit. My vow to not touch you has
nothing
to do with your scars,” he snarled. “You hear me?
Nuh. Thing
.”

She lifted her chin, her watery eyes glinting with disbelief. “Going for Humanitarian of the Year? Part of that trying to convince me you’re still as attracted to me as I am to you?”

Trap. No matter how he answered he lost. Damn heart-to-hearts. He sucked at this. There’s a reason no one came to him for a shoulder to cry on. He had no experience doling out soft words and honeyed phrases. Honesty—well as much as he could provide when he was undercover—was all he had.

“That’s what I thought,” she said with cold dejection, turning toward the window. “I think I’ve had enough for the night. I’d like you to leave.”

Son of a fuck. He couldn’t allow her to think any of this was her fault. “I’ll go,” he answered softly, hoping to bring the tension down a notch. He was eight kinds of stupid for even thinking about admitting his next words since it would only bring her heartache when he had to walk away, but fuck it. She needed to know. “But you need to understand something first. I want you so bad it’s all I’ve thought about since you tried to smile at me in Colombia, then it roared back to life when you opened the door to room number nine, and I’m
still
thinking about it now.”

She whirled, searching his face. The flare of hope squeezed his heart and he hated how he had to dash it for her sake.

“But it’d be a mistake,” he forced himself to say.

She flinched. “Mistake? Do you seriously think telling me how much you’re attracted to me at the same time as calling it a mistake is going to convince me to believe you?”

“No. Yes. Dammit.” He rubbed the top of his head.
Think, asshole. You can’t admit the real reason why you can’t have her.
He could just hear it now.
I’m the Commanding Officer of Delta Squad and we work for a secret agency called SweetBriar Group. Since we only get tasked Black Ops assignments, I’m not allowed to have a personal life. My former boss sitting in jail used to kill anyone who breached the protocol and those he or she told.
Yeah, that’d go over real well.

Always stick with a form of the truth. It made the lie more believable. “What I mean is, it’s not healthy.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Before today, when was the last time you had a flashback?”

She slammed her mouth closed with an audible click and crossed her arms.

“That’s what I thought. I’m not good for you. I’m a reminder of the worst time of your life.”

She looked beyond him, out the window. “And when was the last time
you
spoke to anyone about what happened?”

Direct shot. For a moment he had forgotten he had confessed.
Thank you for the reminder of, yet, another lapse in judgment.
“Never,” he pushed between his tight jaw.

She nodded, though he wasn’t sure what she could possibly be agreeing with. He refused to feed her point and admit she was the only person he
could
talk to about Colombia. Everyone else he had been remotely close to had died, and with the secrecy of the taskforce, he couldn’t just go blabbing to anyone. For six years he had carried the weight in silence, and now seeing the hell she lived through and witnessing the episodes she still suffered, he couldn’t burden her with his confession, though his big mouth had already laid some of it on her.

He inwardly sighed.
Rip the bandage off, man.
What else could he throw at her to get her to move on? His heart banged against his ribcage in protest. “You need to find someone closer to your age.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “First, it’d be a mistake, then my mental health, now I’m too young?” she spat. “What’s next? My alleged felon status? I’ve lived through a hell that’s aged me beyond even you.”

“That may be, but in the grand scheme of things, thirteen years is quite a difference,” he retorted, sticking firm to his argument despite the truthfulness in her words. A sudden image of Wraith and Grady tried to worm its way in. They may have broken all of SBG’s rules but their situation didn’t even come close to this one.
You’re right
, his consciousness replied,
you have a deeper history with Michelle, and her years in WITSEC has proven she can keep a secret
.

Shit.

“Grand scheme?” she asked, blessedly ripping him away from his inner battle. “I’m twenty-five going on forty. You being thirty-eight is not a big deal. Only
you
seem to be hung up on it.”

“Not going to happen,” he stated again, for both their benefits. He had to get out of here before he did something monumentally stupid, like give in. “You’ll find someone who’s perfect for you. Who won’t cause you to relive those moments and can provide a steady, normal home life.”
Because life with an SBG operative would only bring you pain, worry, and loneliness when I left you behind to complete a mission.

Cappy pivoted on his heel and strode out of the room.

Michelle blinked at the shut door. A deep shudder racked her body so bad she had to put a hand on the wall to steady herself.
What just happened?

The phantom feel of his fingertips tracing over the scars on her lower back unnerved her. How could he not be grossed out?
She
didn’t even want to look at them. Went out of her way to keep them covered by wearing long-sleeved shirts and pants.

Heat climbed from her chest to encompass her face. Sharp pains stabbed into her palms from her nails due to her curled fists. Why was she putting herself through this? Up until now, she’d learned to live with the isolation witness protection required and her scars demanded.

I want you so bad it’s all I’ve thought about since you tried to smile at me in Colombia.

The way he growled those words and the flames licking his eyes as he traced them over her body . . . She shivered at the desire. Daggone it. How dare he utter the words she longed to hear, make her salivate for his touch, only to walk away “for her own good”?

He thinks he’s too old for me?
Such bull crap. The age difference between her parents was more than thirteen years. And a “steady, normal home life”? She snorted. As if she could
ever
have that. Her imagination kicked up a vision of a buttoned-down accountant dropping his briefcase and staring at her slack-jawed while she thrashed through a flashback. No “normal” man in his right mind would ever want to deal with that. Not to mention the scars on her body and soul. She was damaged goods. Now add a murder charge? Mr. Briefcase would turn her in and
run
the other way.

Pissed-off tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Mr. Steady-And-Normal wouldn’t have the magic voice to bring her back to reality when an episode consumed her. Or own the magic touch her body craved, instantly recognizing it was
him
and not one of her captors.

Only one person had all those coveted traits. Only one man could fill the longing in her heart. The same man who showed her she could have passion without fear . . . and she couldn’t trust him.
Dammit.

She dashed at the moisture, furious at its presence. If he expected her to grovel at his feet, begging for a chance, then he could stuff it. She shouldn’t be the only one to see they could help each other heal from that hellacious ordeal. Be really good together if he’d just be honest with her and tell her how he was involved with the investigation and manhunt for her.

She straightened from the wall. Screw him. He could keep his secrets and non-answers. She’d find a way out of this mess on her own. The police would find the real killer if she kept her head down long enough. Evidence
had
to exist since she certainly didn’t do it.

Jamming her feet into her tennis shoes, she combated the “Where do I go?” question. It didn’t matter; sitting here like a tragic victim wasn’t an option.

The moonbeams reflecting the panes on the carpet gave her an idea.

If it worked once, it’d work again. Dropping her purse strap crosswise onto her shoulder, she carefully unlatched the side window and opened it all the way. She stilled and held her breath, praying her pounding heart didn’t alert anyone. Nothing stirred in the house, nor did anything move outside.

She gripped the little tabs holding the screen in place, but the little suckers refused to budge.
Come on
, she urged the set, adjusting her grip and squeezing harder. Her arms trembled under the strain of the awkward position. Just when she thought her fingers were going to become permanently disfigured, they popped free. It only took a moment to drop the screen beside the shrubs and climb out the much wider opening than the one in the OTE. Thank God the cottage only had one floor. She couldn’t imagine climbing down a drainpipe or something equally terrifying.

After shutting the glass pane from the outside, she crept alongside the house until she reached the front corner. Still nothing moved.

Escape the front way or back way? Hmmm. Both had their draws, but her instincts said the back. She jogged to the side of the next cottage and peered around the edge again. Coast clear.

She took off running.

The bright moon helped illuminate the ground but deep shadows hindered her ability to spot obstacles. The cottages dropped away and large apartment buildings took their place in the overlarge complex. By the time she made it to the first in-ground pool, she had to slow her pace. Why hadn’t she started exercising when she committed to the meat diet like she promised her coworker? Dang procrastination.

She leapt onto the sidewalk between two brick apartment buildings and continued her pace. Her speed may not win awards, but it did the job, moving her farther away from Jeremy.

The branches from a row of trees framing the concrete path reached for the sky as well as formed a loose canopy. She bet in the daylight the leaves were beautiful—

Oohmph.
She fell, slamming into the corner sidewalk edge. Pain exploded from her knee, the agony so swift she lost her balance and rolled until she hit a tree trunk.

“Hey, did you hear that?” a male voice hissed.

“Dude, you’re freaking stoned,” another male answered. “You can’t hear anything.”

“No. I heard it too,” a third male chimed in.

Oh crap. Michelle froze, but rotated her head as much as she could. Branches swayed in the wind with patches of the full moon peeking through. The sight seemed straight out of a horror flick, ratcheting her panic.
Only twenty minutes into my escape and I’m already in trouble.

Muffled footsteps beyond the tree line behind her sounded like they were getting closer.

She scrabbled to a crouch and centered herself with the tree, not that it would do much good. The trees were still young, meaning the trunks weren’t that thick yet.

“Hey, you see that?”

“What?” one of the guys answered his friend.

“Look.” Pause. “How come that tree’s bigger than the rest?”

Nucking futs.
Could she outrun them? Normally, no. But they were stoned, right? Didn’t that mean something?

Silence reigned and she strained to hear what they were up to. Her heart thundered, making it difficult to hear, and she was sure her heavy breathing gave her away.

“BOO!” a voice cried from her left.

She screamed and stumbled, tripping over the same root that had caused the sidewalk to raise and take her down the first time. The flap on her sweatpants ripped further and the gash below her left kneecap tore wider.

Raucous laughter filled the air and the friends caught up with their buddy.

Not wanting to give them any time to regroup and figure out how they were going to torture her, she fumbled to stand and took off.

“Hey!” they yelled, but she didn’t slow one bit.

Her left leg protested and her lungs screamed for air but she refused to succumb to their twisted games. Pounding feet thundered behind her, pushing her to run faster.

She dodged over steps and ran through hedges, steadily pulling away. After darting around the second apartment building, she found the perfect hiding spot. Peering over her shoulder, she didn’t see anything. Running to the other side of the second in-ground pool, she crouched within the bushes lining the wrought-iron fence and waited.

***

Talon awoke with a start and blinked. He pulled the cap off, stretched, working at a kink in his neck. Damn chair. He’d slept in worst places, but still.
What time is it?
He glanced at the broad face of his watch. 8:16 A.M. Four hours had passed since Cappy left Michelle’s bedroom. Had the man gotten his fill “comforting” the hell out of the suspected murderer?

A door opened and heavy boot steps paused before they resumed down the hall. The CO emerged freshly showered and shaved with a solid green T-shirt tucked into a crisp pair of cargo pants.

Talon scratched at the hair covering his jawline. He should probably do the same.

Cappy stopped at the edge of the small living room and finished attaching his gun holster to his belt. “Why are you sitting out here? Shouldn’t you be knocked out on pain pills or something?”

Oh yeah.
Something
happened last night and now the guy cycled through the “what the hell did I just do?” morning-afters. Talon couldn’t resist poking the normally unflappable man. “Quieter at this end of the house.”

Cappy’s brows slammed down and his posture stiffened. “You have something to say to me?”

“For real? I have carte blanche to let it rip?”

The muscle along Cappy’s jaw ticked and his glare deepened.

“Fine,” Talon replied with dramatic flair. “To the point then. How’s your pet? She soothed and
satisfied
enough to talk to us yet? Or did you initiate an interview during your pillow talk?”

Silence and glower.

“Yeah, good call on waiting, that’d be a real mood killer if you were hoping to go at it again.”

Some teeth grinding and muscle plumping.

Talon held in a laugh. The guy was too easy a target. “All this high school drama of bed hopping is making me twitchy. We should’ve already been gone.”

“Anxious to get back to Grady’s?”

Asshole. “You do remember Sixty-Nine was about to sleep with someone else Friday night, right? Then we find her in a sleaze motel. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit . . .
loose
?” Talon tapped the side of his head as if a thought just occurred to him. “That’s why you’re dragging your feet turning her over to the Senator. You’re hoping for another hit.”

Cappy crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing into slits.

“Whatever. Be all broody.” Talon plopped the hat back on his head then tipped his hips up. Pulling his phone out of his front pocket, he asked, “Shall I call the Senator? Tell Bob to meet us here?”

After a long pause, which Talon could only assume was supposed to intimidate because of the man’s hulking stance—it didn’t—Cappy asked in a low, gruff voice, “Have you seen her yet this morning?”

“Nope.” He popped the
P
for effect, and stood. The bandages on his face itched. A hot, steamy shower would help peel them right off.

Cappy frowned and pivoted.

***

Romeo propped himself up on his elbow and watched Isis sleep. Damn, she was exquisite. She had the majestic bearing of a caged tiger. He hoped one day she’d be free to become the tigress her true nature demanded.

His gut told him their time for casual hook-ups had run its course. Too many personal demons seemed to have their hooks in her, pulling her beyond where he wanted to follow. To be honest, that suited him perfectly. He didn’t want anything more from her than to exorcise the freaky daydream from the strip club yesterday.

A flash of black hair replaced the blond spikes against the pillow.

No.
He refused to allow the image of another woman to enter this bed. He had never disrespected any of his playmates by thinking of someone else and he wouldn’t start now.

Especially
when they involved his partner.

Isis lay on her stomach, her arms spread to curl around her head. Rays of sun filtered through her hotel room’s sheer drapes, casting a warm glow over her creamy skin.

He moved the white sheet lower on her back and kissed a soft trail down her spine.

“Hmmmm,” she sleepily replied, shifting to peer over her shoulder.

“The sun’s up, lover. Time to wake up.”

A catlike grin stole over her face. “It’s too early to get out of bed.”

“Who said anything about leaving the bed?” He kissed one of the small dimples above her ass.

His cell phone rang, vibrating insistently on the nightstand beside him.

She glanced at hers, but it stayed silent. “Guess it’s not SAC Bingham.”

He rolled over and snatched the device up. Cappy’s name scrolled across the screen.

“Yo,” he answered, slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

“Michelle’s gone.”

Romeo blinked. “Uh. I take it that wasn’t your plan?”

The string of curses lighting up his eardrum let Romeo know what his CO thought of the question.

“Get your ass over here,”
Cappy barked.
“Come prepared to give a report, and bring Magician with you.”