12. Mandy
12
MANDY
I jabbed the mouse beside my laptop and blew out a breath. Glaring at the screen, I gulped a mouthful of coffee, but the caffeine hit did nothing to scrub the red from my bank accounts.
Nothing moved inside the house, and I lifted my gaze from the screen. Deliberating between fixing something hearty for breakfast or lazily grabbing cereal gave me a mental break from the accounts. Pepper had worked the late shift at Lunar Brewery last night, so she wouldn’t be stirring for hours yet.
Turning back to the screen, I slumped in my chair. If something didn’t change soon, I’d have to sell the garage. The money I’d make off the sale probably wouldn’t be enough to pay off the loan shark, but it would get me closer.
I could sell the house too . My stomach lurched at the insidious idea, but I couldn’t reject it. It wouldn’t help me with the gambling debt directly, but I’d be able to pay the bank mortgage off, which would at least take that weight off my shoulders. Pepper and I could move into an apartment. I could beg the garage’s new owner to let me continue working there. But where would that leave Chance? Would he stay on as a mechanic, too? Without his job, would he still stay in Springwell?
Bing! My eyes darted to the lower corner of the screen, and I spied an email notification—a message from my distributor. Michelin was running a sale on a new line of mud tires.
I clicked on the link to take me to the supplier’s website. I’d be stupid not to stock up while the getting was good. I wasn’t sure how it was in the rest of the country, but in my part of Georgia, spring and summer was “mudding season.” People piled into their trucks—or their buddies’ trucks—and headed for the hills. Traversing through the rugged terrain, they tested their trucks’ capabilities as they tore through the bogs and ripped through the muddy fields and woods. If the truck wasn’t covered in brown mud by the time they were done, they didn’t do it right.
Needless to say, I serviced a lot of vehicles during the season.
Perhaps thoughts of selling were premature. If I could make enough during this busy time, maybe I could hold things together a few more months. Put off selling. Put off maybe losing Chance and risking the fragile new relationship that had blossomed between us. Maybe I could hold off a little longer. Just a little longer.
Chance
My morning had started way too early. Sleep came in fits and starts, so I finally gave up. At four in the morning, I went for a ten-mile run, then pushed my body through a punishing workout. Not exactly at SEAL level, but damn close.
The demons quieted as I sweated and grunted, and a new idea grabbed hold. I couldn’t be stupid or hot-headed in my bid to save Mandy. I’d learned quickly in the SEALs that the team always had my back. No man ever had to go it alone. Or should go it alone. I needed a team. People who were trained in combatting lowlife thugs like Walter and this loan shark. Someone like Agent Mark Butler of the FBI, who had resources and the backing of the government to take down the corrupt organization.
Since Mandy couldn’t talk to the FBI without Walter knowing, I would become her voice, her representative. I’d be the liaison and take on the risk. And I would do it with Mandy’s blessing. If I didn’t—if I went behind her back—then I wouldn’t deserve her. I’d made her one promise, and a SEAL kept his word. A man kept his word to the woman he loved.
I parked near the garage and pulled out my phone, only realizing as it rang it was barely seven o’clock. Still, Mandy picked up on the second ring.
“You didn’t sleep in?”
Mandy groaned. “No. I had the books to do, so I got an early start.” An edge of concern crept into her tone. “Wait, what’s the matter? Everything okay at the garage?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I called to say, to ask, uh… Mandy, I trust you. I’m asking you to remember that when I tell you what I’m about to tell you.”
Mandy didn’t say anything. I took a deep breath.
“I’m sick of Walter harassing you. It needs to stop. I was gonna confront him today, without?—”
“Jesus, Chance !”
“I didn’t. I haven’t. I’m calling you first. I have a plan, if you’re willing to listen.”
For a long, tense moment, Mandy just breathed. I could picture her on the other end, gathering herself with an effort. Choking back the urge to yell.
“What’s your plan?” she asked at last.
“Use me as your go-between with the FBI. I want to talk to Butler and pool our resources. With my SEAL training and his government connections, I think we could bust these goons once and for all. Get them out of your life and get our lives on track.”
Mandy inhaled sharply. “Our lives? Yours and mine?”
“The future we talked about. Your dream. Our dream.”
Mandy made a broken sound. I waited, not breathing. If she said no, I’d respect that. I’d give her more time. But?—
“I trust you,” she said. “But if you’re going to do this, I need one more promise.”
I gripped my phone. “Anything.”
“Swear no one I love will get hurt. And by the way, that includes you.”
“I swear,” I said, and I’d never meant anything more. “I love you too, okay? I’m going to go now. I have a lot to do, but I don’t want you to worry. Have your mani-pedi, and I’ll see you after.”
Ten minutes later, I was unlocking the main door to the garage’s waiting room, jabbing in the code to shut off the alarm. I had already walked the perimeter of the property and felt compelled to double-check that nothing had been tampered with inside.
Satisfied everything looked as it should, I reached for my phone again and pulled up Butler’s contact. I’d snuck the number into my phone the moment I’d found the card. Now, it was ringing, ringing?—
“Agent Butler.”
“Hello,” I responded, crisp and clear. “My name is Chance McCallister, and I’m calling on behalf of Amanda Loomis.”
Butler was quiet a moment, thinking maybe. “She’s in Springwell, right? The garage with the gambling debts? It’s been a couple of years.”
“Good memory.” I relaxed and exhaled. If Butler could recall that much detail after two years, then I had picked the right man to help.
“Has something happened?”
“Yeah, I came home from the Navy and found out what these assholes have been putting her through,” I retorted bluntly. “I’m not going to let them take all her money and intimidate her anymore.”
A soft chuckle filled the speaker. “Good man. I hated it when she walked away, but I couldn’t make her help me, and to be honest, other cases demanded my attention.”
“Triage.”
“You’ve got that right,” Agent Butler responded bitterly. “Please tell me you’ve got something more than the collector’s name.”
I clenched my fist. “Not yet. I was hoping you could fill me in on Walter.” I scrubbed at my face. “Can you tell me what you need to take these guys down? Once I have some parameters to work with, I’m hoping you and I can come up with a game plan to get the job done.” Down the line, Butler sighed.
“All right. I’m at my desk.” Butler was typing, clicking his mouse. “Okay. Walter Witby’s got a pretty standard rap sheet. He’s a professional flunky. He’s been connected to a string of more powerful players for years now, but he always seems to wiggle out of serious jail time.”
That fit with what I had observed about the jackass.
“I don’t have any information on who he’s currently sucking up to, so bringing him in at this point won’t do us much good.”
Mark Butler’s words echoed Mandy’s, and I nodded to myself.
“He’d lawyer up,” Butler continued, “and we’d lose any chance we had to get the loan shark’s name.” He paused. “You willing to become an informant? The pay sucks, as in there is none, and you take on a ton of risk.”
“Absolutely.” I straightened. “This ends now. Mandy’s dealt with this long enough.”
“I see how it is.” Agent Butler chuckled. “I’d do the same thing for my wife.” His voice changed back to professional. “What we need is the name of the loan shark. Once we have that, we can devise a plan based on who we’re dealing with.”
“Consider it done,” I promised. “I’m going to text you my contact information. I’ll be back in touch.”
I hung up feeling a lot better. I had a plan. I had a team. Now I just needed the weaselly jackass to give up the information.
A slow grin spread across my face as I unlocked the door and opened the three bays for business. One way or another, Walter Witby would tell me what I wanted to know.