16. Mandy
16
MANDY
B lood pulsed in my temples so hard, I worried the veins would burst from my skin. Through sheer determination, I kept marching forward, stuffing whatever Chance had given me into my front pocket.
Slap-slap. Slap-slap . My flip-flops pounded against my heels.
Call Mark Butler. I had heard Chance’s message, but my heart couldn’t get past him standing in Nolan’s house, agreeing to work as the man’s enforcer. So much had happened since this morning—the fist fight, the betrayal of Chance meeting Walter behind my back, the talk with Pepper, and then my unwelcome escort to the mansion.
Nolan had tried to charm me with small talk when I’d arrived, but all I could see was the ugliness behind his smooth words and handsome face. Which had scared me even more. Weren’t sociopaths supposed to be charming but totally disconnected from their emotions and reality? Did he think sending his thugs for me was normal or that I was sitting in front of him for a social visit? I tried to get brave and slip in questions about my father, the debt, or how it got to be so high, but he got annoyed and frustrated when I didn’t stick to his script. I immediately backed down, not wanting him to harm me before I had the opportunity to talk to Chance. Nolan eventually ordered one of his muscle-for-brains goons to take my picture. All too soon, I realized I had been a pawn to get Chance under Nolan’s control.
Pepper’s words circled in my mind, and I grabbed a hold of them with all my strength. He’s got training and skills in warfare . He probably knows fifty ways to kill a man with tweezers. I had to believe Chance would be okay. That he had a plan to get us both out of this safely, and that he wasn’t truly sacrificing himself to save me.
Sucking in air to calm my racing heart, I stalked down the drive. I needed to stop obsessing about what I couldn’t change and start concentrating on how to help Chance survive. Call Mark Butler . I could do that. But first I had to get rid of the goons.
Whirling at the end of the driveway, I held my hand out, palm up. “Give me my phone back.”
The two goons halted and puffed up as if their bulk would intimidate me. It kind of did, but I couldn’t let the menace in their eyes deter me from escaping.
“You don’t need your phone,” the brown-eyed man said, his voice a monotone.
“I do if I’m calling for a ride,” I shot back.
“We’re taking you back to Springwell,” Brown Eyes declared. He must be the designated speaker for the pair.
“No, you’re not.” Pumping my hand for emphasis, I leaned forward. “I can find my own way home.” Truth, but not the whole truth. I had no clue what Chance had cooking, but driving over an hour to Springwell while he stayed here felt like abandoning him.
At their stony silence, I jabbed my other hand at them. “I’m not your prisoner or your property. Nolan let me go, remember? Besides, you’re holding Chance. What do think I’m going to do?”
Thug Two nudged Brown Eyes’s arm. “She’s not gonna do nothin’ that’ll git her man kilt.”
Now I understood why Brown Eyes talked for the pair. Sheesh.
Brown Eyes reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled my phone out. I snatched it out of his hand and pulled up my usual rideshare app.
I ordered a car as I stomped down the driveway, straight through the ugly wrought-iron gate. The heavy black metal hadn’t even finished its sweep open when the goons hustled up the driveway, then disappeared from sight.
The overwhelming urge to see what Chance had slipped me made me twitchy but examining it while still on Nolan’s property—in view of his security cameras—would be the epitome of stupid. Fingering what felt like a photo in my pocket, I impatiently waited. My instincts screamed that the thugs were not letting me go so easily. They were probably climbing into an SUV now, which would explain the gates not closing.
“ Comeoncomeoncomeon ,” I mumbled, toeing a pebble back and forth.
A four-door economy Chevy rocked to a stop. A college-aged girl leaned out the window. “You Mandy?”
“Yep.” I yanked the door open and dropped into the seat.
The girl took off for the baseball stadium I had listed as a destination because it was the only thing I could think of under pressure.
I exhaled. So far, the coast was clear.
“I’ve never been back here,” College Girl mused, her head swiveling. “Swanky.”
“Yep.” I ducked and craned my neck until I had a prime view in the side mirror.
“You expecting company?” College Girl asked, her tone edged with nerves.
“I hope not.” I continued my vigilance.
College Girl merged onto a popular road and gunned the engine to keep up with traffic. Two seconds later, a large black SUV cut a Mercedes off and maneuvered behind our car.
“Damn it.” I twisted to look between the seats. Brown Eyes sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, with Thug Two driving.
“Hey,” College Girl warbled. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m only doing this so I have enough money to pay for books next semester. I’ve got a final in an hour. Summer semesters are brutal,” she rambled, her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.
“I need to switch drop off locations.” I turned back in my seat. The Braves were currently playing out of town, and an empty stadium now seemed too risky as a place to meet Agent Butler.
“Oh man.” College Girl was trembling. “We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”
Wow. Dramatic much? “No. You’ll be fine. In fact, is your college downtown?”
“Yeah. Georgia Tech.”
“Perfect. You’ll make it to your final in plenty of time.” I locked my eyes back on the side mirror again. “Drop me off at the closest coffee shop to campus.” This time of day, with exams in session, should mean the coffee shop would be busy. Please be busy .
The girl drove like an Indy Car racer, cutting in and out of traffic as if the hounds of hell were on our heels. In a way, they were. I gripped the bar mounted above the door and kept silent. With every turn and yellow light we blasted through, the SUV still dogged our bumper.
Damn it.
Suddenly, the girl swerved and rocked the Chevy to a stop in front of GreenLeaf Coffee Shop. I tossed a ten-dollar tip into the cup holder and bolted out the door. The Chevy rocketed away and I raced for the shop’s entrance. Tires squealed and I cursed. The SUV cut a truck off as it lurched into the drop-off lane beside the sidewalk.
Throwing the glass door open, I ran inside, my gaze wildly searching for another way out. Along the right wall of booths beside the windows, I spied a break in the brown pleather and wood. The white words Emergency Exit stenciled on the tinted glass almost made me cry for joy. Dodging around a clump of students discussing a biology dissection, I slammed against the red bar.
An alarm blared, deafening the store, and I cursed. Unable to stop, I kept going. Running down the one-way side street, I peered over my shoulder, and my stomach plunged. The alarm had alerted the thugs as to where to find me.
Twice I stumbled, my feet turning wrong in the flip-flops. I almost kicked them off, but I was afraid I’d injure myself on debris that would slow me down even more.
The throaty growl of an engine echoed off the buildings on either side of me. Peering over my shoulder, I wasn’t surprised to see the black SUV gaining on me. Why couldn’t this street’s direction be the other way?
Finally free of the confining street, I plunged into the crowd of pedestrians hustling north and south. Pivoting, I merged with the north-bound flow and elbowed my way to the edge of the sidewalk. A yellow taxi rolled to a stop, its brake lights shining like a beacon. I pushed and shoved until I reached the car just as the back door opened and a man clad in a business suit stepped out. He laughed into his cellphone and made a show of adjusting his suit coat.
Survival trumping patience and manners, I knocked the man out of the way and hopped into the back. Slamming the door in his furious face, I barked, “Drive.”
“Where?” The driver turned in his seat. Disapproval was written all over his expression.
“That way.” I pointed straight ahead. “I’ll get an address in a minute.”
“You have cash?”
I did not have time for this. Yanking out my dwindling stack of bills, I shoved a twenty into the slot.
The cabbie took it and put the car in gear.
Turning in the seat, I jammed my shoulder into the cracked upholstery and spied the black SUV right behind us.
Crap!
Ripping my cellphone out of my pocket, I pulled up Agent Mark Butler’s contact and hit dial.
After one ring, he answered. “Agent Butler.”
“Mark,” I snapped, heart pounding in my throat, “It’s Mandy Loomis.”
“Mandy—”
“Listen,” I cut him off. “I’m in trouble.” I flicked a glance at the cabbie and found his attention split between me and the road. “I was just a guest at Nolan’s house, and Chance is still there.”
The light ahead turned yellow, and I leaned forward. “Run it. Don’t stop.”
The cabbie muttered but did as I’d demanded.
“Where are you?” Mark demanded.
“In the back of a cab near Georgia Tech.” My eyes slid to the back window and watched the SUV run the red light. “I’ve got two thugs behind me. They’re being quite persistent in their attempts to escort me. I need help, and I need to fill you in.”
“Head to Piedmont Park,” Mark instructed, his blunt tone extra curt. “It’s a huge open green space in Midtown.”
I repeated the instructions to the cabbie, who instantly signaled, then turned right. Hard. I slapped my hand onto the bench seat to keep from falling over.
“A Fabulous Hair Band Festival started yesterday and ends tomorrow,” Mark explained. “Those eighties bands pack in large crowds. You can lose your tail there. Call me back once your feet hit the ground. We’ll coordinate where to meet.”
I hung up and tapped the phone against my thigh. Unable to sit still with so much adrenaline pouring through my veins, I carefully pulled out the photo Chance had given me.
Oh my God . I clapped a hand over my mouth. The picture trembled in my fingers.
I remembered that day like it was yesterday.
He kept this all these years?
My finger traced over a dull patch on the photo. How many times had Chance swiped over my face, like I’d just done? My heart wept for the SEAL who’d faced death so many times with my picture in his pocket and my cold goodbye still ringing in his ears. It sent a pang through my overtaxed heart. I had to believe he’d given me the photo as something other than a memento. Was it a sign, maybe? A promise that he hadn’t betrayed me? He’d given me a treasure he’d kept for twelve years. Didn’t that mean he’d be back to collect it?
The taxi jerked to the left, then halted by a packed sidewalk.
I read the fare off the meter and shoved a five-dollar tip into the slot. I only had sixteen dollars left. Mark had better be here somewhere, or I’d be stuck.
Exiting the cab, I spied the grill of the SUV closing in. I plunged into the crowd of music lovers filling the sidewalk and was immediately swept away on a tide of ratty concert tees and feathered hairdos. I hid in the swarm, one body among many, and let myself be herded down a set of cement steps, into the open park. The whole space was crowded with dazzling white tents, lines of food trucks and merchandise vendors. Portable concert stages had been set up in three different corners, each with its own crowd screaming along with the bands.
Chaos reigned, and I could kiss Mark for suggesting this place. I snuck past the ticket-taker with no trouble at all—he was occupied arguing with a stoned couple attempting to smuggle in marijuana—and veered right, past T-shirt tents and stands hocking decade-appropriate vintage clothing. At last, I wound up in a shadowed nook, hidden between two tents. I fished my phone out and redialed Mark.
“I’m here,” I said the second we connected. I darted out of my nook and ducked between two food trucks churning out mouth-watering scents. Their generators muffled the cacophony of music but did nothing to help my growling stomach. “I haven’t seen the thugs since I entered the park.”
“Where are you?” Mark asked.
I had to press my finger against my other ear to hear him. “Sorry, what was that?”
“Never mind,” Mark said. “I’m at the west stage. Cinderella’s currently playing. Do you know who they are?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure they’ll have some type of banner, right?”
“They do. It’s white with purple writing.”
“I’ll find them.” I hung up and wended through the throng of people, getting assaulted by all kinds of synthesized music. Finally spying the purple and white banner, I wanted to throw my hands in the air.
Mark materialized near the temporary metal fencing erected to keep the fans away from the backstage area. His suit stuck out in the crowd of ripped jeans, spandex, and tank tops, but I had never been so happy to see a gray suit in my life.
I got right to the point. “Chance is in trouble. Nolan Nickel is the loan shark who lent my father money, and he’s the one who’s been sending his thugs to collect.”
“I know.” Mark steered me away from the stage, toward a different exit point.
I blinked, not expecting that. “Okay. Well, do you know he has Chance right now and that Chance stupidly agreed to become one of his thugs?”
“Yes.” Mark grabbed my elbow to pull me out of the path of a running child. “Chance dialed my number while they were bringing him to Nolan’s house and my voicemail picked up. At first, I thought it was a crank call until I heard him say Nolan’s name. The recording’s not the best—something’s scratching the mic—but I was able to catch that Nolan wants Chance to rough up a few deadbeats in exchange for wiping out your debt.”
“That’s crazy, right?” I wiped the sweat off my forehead. “He can’t do this by himself.”
“He’s not by himself,” Mark retorted, motioning to a steep set of cement stairs. “He’s got us. He knows he has to get Nolan to incriminate himself.”
“But what can I do to help?” My life had spun out of control. Since the moment I walked in on the fight this morning, my heart had lived in my throat. “I can’t risk Chance.” I love him .
Woah. Wow. Really with the epiphany now ? Understanding I was in love with Chance McCallister at this very moment was not the best timing.
“And he says the same about you.” Mark guided us to a parked navy SUV.
“Chance has served his country enough,” I argued. “He shouldn’t be forced to beat up men on some loan shark’s whim, no matter how much evidence it gives you.”
“He’s not doing this for his country.” Mark unlocked the truck with a remote. “This is personal. From what I gather, Mr. McCallister will do anything to keep you safe.” Mark chuckled, holding the passenger door open for me. “That man is certifiable for you, and he doesn’t care what it takes to end Nolan’s hold on you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m just as certifiable when it comes to keeping him safe,” I retorted the second he climbed behind the wheel. “I have to be able to do something to help.”
I had to make up for all those years he’d fingered that photo with the ghost of our breakup still haunting his memories, and for my reluctance to trust in him when he came home. He had shown me in so many ways these past few days how much he loved me. I could do no less.
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Mark blended into the slow-moving traffic.
Sitting next to Agent Butler, my respect for Chance grew. I’d once told Chance one man couldn’t take on a corrupt organization. I had been right and wrong. One man couldn’t, but he could be the catalyst to build the team to take them down.
Was Chance still taking on too much risk? Yes, but I finally felt like this nightmare was going to end. That I wouldn’t have to sell the garage and my house. That my dream might just come true after all.
If Chance survived.