Chance lasered his gaze on the collector and paused. The weasel needed to understand that Chance was in charge. He’d act if he wanted to, not because he was ordered to. After a long beat that ended with Walter squirming, visibly uncomfortable, Chance was satisfied Walter got the message and he thrust out Unibrow’s phone. Buzz Cut snatched it. Chance hadn’t been able to unlock the damn thing. He’d planned to drive it over to Atlanta tomorrow to get the FBI’s tech team on it.
Buzz Cut ripped the cover off the back of the phone and tore the battery out. Dropping the pieces on the ground, he stomped on them all until the phone was beyond repair.
Well, at least stealing the damn thing had been worth something. It made for a good decoy.
“You armed?” Brown Eyes asked, sounding like a robot. The nose of the Glock had dipped to Chance’s stomach. The thug needed to work on arm strength. It had only been a few minutes since he pulled the weapon and he was already tiring? Pitiful.
Chance pulled both pants legs up to reveal bare calves, then spread his arms wide, showing off his stained tank plastered to his torso from sweat. “No place to hide anything.” Not that he needed a weapon to hurt these men. They knew it but were probably used to a script.
Climbing into the middle bench of the SUV, Chance settled his mind to straddle the line between fighter and logical man, trying to prepare himself for what he’d face in Atlanta. Traffic picked up the closer they got to the city. Chance slowly inched his hand to his pocket, using his dangling sleeves to cover his actions. He made no sudden movements and kept his muscles loose so no one would pay attention when he palmed his phone, muted it, and redialed Agent Butler. Now at least someone on the outside knowing where he was.
Spying the ritzy scenery in the suburbs close to the city, Chance bobbed his head. “Wonder if Nolan’s rich neighbors realize they live next to a loan shark.” He hoped either Agent Butler had answered the phone or his voicemail had kicked in, and that Chance had spoken loudly enough for his voice to transmit clearly.
Walled mansions passed them by as they wound deeper into the neighborhood. The vehicle pulled into the driveway of a property protected by wrought-iron gates. The gates soundlessly swung open and they proceeded up the driveway.
Chance would roll his eyes at all the pomp and circumstance if it wasn’t so tragic. He wanted to get this over with already. At the top of the curved driveway, a beautiful home sat among all kinds of landscaping, but Chance didn’t study the architecture for the aesthetics. Instead, he memorized sight lines, doors, windows, cameras, placement of guards, everything he’d need to know if he had to fight his way out with Mandy.
Marching inside, surrounded by the thugs, he continued memorizing and formulating escape routes. He hated having to come up with tactical plans on the fly. He and his SEAL team performed much better when they had days to plan an extraction. Or execution.
Remaining on the main floor, the group herded him into a room full of couches and straight-back chairs. A huge wall of windows took up the east side while a fireplace fit for royalty graced the west wall.
He catalogued it all in seconds as well as Mandy sitting on the couch near the window wall. She had no bindings on her hand and feet and looked unharmed but nervous.
“You okay?” he asked, stopping just beyond her couch. The thugs disbursed to various points in the room while Walter lingered near Chance.
“She’s fine,” answered a man dressed in a black bespoke suit who was leaning casually against the wall. He had short brown hair losing the battle to gray, and a trim physique.
Chance ignored him and kept his focus on Mandy.
She nodded. “I’m fine. They haven’t touched me.”
Waiting another beat, he switched his focus to the man in all black.
“Nolan Nickel,” the guy stated, pushing off the wall and lazily striding toward Chance. The differences between his suit and Chance’s dirty coveralls were so vast it was funny. But not really. This was the man responsible for Mandy’s misery and near poverty. He didn’t deserve to breathe anymore, but Chance would have to settle for the guy wearing baggy orange jumpsuits for the rest of his life.
“Walter had asked for permission to beat you to death,” Nolan announced as if talking about the Brave’s game on TV.
A small catch of air from Mandy panged his heart, but that was the only reaction Chance had to the news.
“But I don’t like to waste resources,” Nolan plowed on, his brow creasing in obvious disappointment at Chance’s lack of response.
“You think I’m a resource?” Chance asked just to get this moving. He wasn’t sure how long Agent Butler’s voicemail recorded, and he needed to capture the good stuff.
“I hope so.” Nolan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You easily made mincemeat of two of my men and have others very nervous.” His eyes slid to Walter, then to a few of the escort thugs.
They should be. “And that makes me a resource how?”
“If you do a few jobs for me, I’ll absolve Ms. Loomis’s debt.”
Mandy jerked forward, red rising on her cheeks. “No,” she whispered.
Chance ignored her. “What kind of jobs?”
Nolan’s smile became real. The bastard thought he’d reeled Chance in. “I’ve got some particularly…difficult debtors who have become resistant to efforts to collect repayment. You persuade enough of them to give you the cash they owe me and her debt disappears.”
“No, Chance.” Mandy stood. “Don’t do it. You cannot get in any deeper.”
Chance wasn’t sure that he’d gotten Nolan to say enough but right now, his priority was to get Mandy safely out of the room.
“I’ll consider your offer,” Chance responded as if really thinking about it, “but Mandy has to leave here unharmed and of her own free will.”
“Chance!” Mandy yelped. “No. You can’t do this.”
“I’m doing this for you.” Chance met her eyes but watched Nolan out of the corner of his.
“Don’t I get a say?” Mandy snapped.
“Sure.” Chance held his breath and tried to tell her with his eyes to trust him.
A maelstrom of emotions flitted over her face, but then he instantly saw when she got that he had a plan.
“You can say thank you,” he goaded to let her know he needed her to argue with him. Pulling her forward, pretending to manhandle her, he slipped his talisman, his prized photo, into her hand. “Things have gone this far—what other choice do I have? I’m a fighter, honey, not a magician. Mark my words, calling in the Butler to clean this mess up isn’t exactly an option for me.” Chance threw her arm off as if disgusted. “So, you’ve got me. I’m doing this to save you.”
He hoped she got the message to call the FBI agent. This whole thing spiraled so fast, he never got to talk to her after the fight this morning. Maybe when she saw the photo, she’d realize she had always been with him and he’d do everything he could to end this so they could have the life she dreamed of. The life he now knew he’d do anything to achieve.
Curling her hand around the photo, she hid it like a pro. “Maybe I’d prefer calling in the Butler,” she bit out. “At least he’s civilized and not a caveman using fists.” She turned to Nolan “Can I go? I can’t look at him right now.” She stomped toward the door.
Nolan dipped his chin and two of the thugs—same two who initially kidnapped her—silently tromped in her righteous wake.
“Women,” Nolan grunted. “You agree to lean on a few men and they turn on you.”
Whatever. Keep gloating. Your days are numbered. “So, when do we begin?”
16
Blood pulsed in Mandy’s temples so hard, she worried the veins would burst from her skin. Through sheer determination, she kept marching forward, stuffing whatever Chance had given her into her front pocket.
Slap-slap. Slap-slap. Her flip-flops pounded against her heels.
Call Mark Butler. She had heard Chance’s message but her 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 her back, the talk with Pepper, and then her unwelcome escort to the mansion.
Nolan had tried to charm her with small talk when she’d arrived, but all she could see was the ugliness behind the fake words and handsome face. Which had scared her even more. Weren’t sociopaths supposed to be charming but totally disconnected from their emotions and reality? Did he think sending his thugs for her was normal or that she was sitting in front of him a social visit? She tried to get brave and slip in questions about her father, the debt, or how it got to be so high, but he got annoyed and frustrated when she didn’t stick to his script. She immediately backed down, not wanting the sociopath to harm her before she had the opportunity to talk to Chance. Nolan eventually ordered one of the muscle-for-brains goons to take her picture. All too soon, she realized she had been a pawn to get Chance under Nolan’s control.
Pepper’s words circled in her mind and she grabbed a hold of them with all her strength. …he’s got training and skills in warfare. He probably knows fifty ways to kill a man with tweezers. Mandy had to believe Chance would be okay. That he had a plan to get them both out of this safely, and that he wasn’t truly sacrificing himself to save her.
Sucking in air to calm her racing heart, she needed to stop obsessing about what she couldn’t change, and start concentrating on how to help Chance survive. Call Mark Butler. She could do that. But first she had to get rid of the goons.
Whirling at the end of the walkway, she held her hand out, palm up. “Give me my phone back.”
The two goons halted and puffed up as if their bulk would intimidate her. It kind of did but she couldn’t let the menace in their eyes deter her from escaping.
“You don’t need your phone,” the brown-eyed man stated, his voice still monotone.
“I do if I’m calling for a ride,” she 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 her hand for emphasis, she leaned forward. “I can find my own way home.” Truth, but not the whole truth. She 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, Mandy jabbed her other hand at them. “I’m not your prisoner or your property. Nolan let me go of my own of free will, remember? Besides, you’re holding Chance. What do think I’m going to do?”
Second Thug nudged Brown Eyes’s arm. “She’s not gonna do nothin’ that’ll git her man kilt.”
Now she understood why Brown Eyes talked for the pair. Sheesh.
Brown Eyes reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled her phone out. She snatched it out of his hand and made quick work of using the rideshare app already loaded on her phone.
Stomping down the driveway, she slipped through the wrought-iron gate Second Thug opened. The heavy black metal hadn’t even fully finished its sweep open when the goons hustled up the driveway, then disappeared from sight.
The overwhelming urge to see what Chance had slipped her made her 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 her pocket, she impatiently waited. Her instincts screamed the thugs were not letting her go so easily. They were probably climbing into an SUV now which would explain the gates not closing.
“Comeoncomeoncomeon,” she mumbled, toeing a pebble back and forth.
A four-door economy Chevy rocked to a stop and rolled its passenger window down. A college-aged girl leaned sideways. “You Mandy?”
“Yep.” Mandy yanked the door open and dropped into the seat.
The girl took off for the baseball stadium Mandy had used as a destination because it was the only thing she could think of under pressure.
Mandy exhaled. So far, the coast was clear.
“I’ve never been back here,” College Girl mused, her head swiveling. “Swanky.”
“Yep.” Mandy ducked and craned her neck until she had a prime view in the side mirror.
“You expecting company?” College Girl asked, her tone edging with nerves.
“I hope not.” Mandy continued her 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 their car.
“Damn it.” Mandy twisted to look between the seats. Brown Eyes sat in the passenger seat of the SUV with Second Thug 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 skin whitening around the steering wheel.
“I need to switch drop off locations.” Mandy turned back in her seat. The Braves were out of town and an empty stadium now seemed too risky to meet Agent Butler.
“Oh man.” College Girl trembled. “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.” Mandy locked her eyes back on the side mirror again. “Drop me off at the closest coffee shop to campus.” This time of day with summer semesters in final exams should mean the caffeine slinging 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 their heels. In a way, they were. Mandy gripped the bar mounted above the door and kept silent. With every turn and yellow light they blasted through, the SUV still dogged their bumper.
Damn it.
Suddenly, the girl swerved and rocked the Chevy to a stop in front of GreenLeaf Coffee Shop. Mandy tossed a ten-dollar tip into the cup holder and bolted out the door. The Chevy rocketed away and Mandy raced for the shop’s entrance. Tires squealed and Mandy cursed. The SUV cut a truck off as it lurched into the drop-off lane beside the sidewalk.
Throwing the glass door open, she ran inside, her gaze wildly searching for another way out. Along the right wall of booths beside the windows, she spied a break in the brown pleather and wood. The white words Emergency Exit stenciled on the tinted glass almost made her cry for joy. Dodging around a clump of students discussing a biology dissection, Mandy slammed against the red bar.
An alarm blared, deafening the store and Mandy cursed. Unable to stop, she kept going. Running down the one-way side street, she peered over her shoulder, and her stomach plunged. The alarm had clued the thugs where to find her.
Twice she stumbled, her feet turning wrong in the flip-flops. She almost kicked them off, but was afraid she’d injure herself on debris that would slow her down even more.
A throaty growl of an engine echoed off the buildings on either side of her. Peering over her shoulder, she wasn’t surprised to see the black SUV gaining on her. Why couldn’t this street’s direction be the other way?
Finally free of the confining street, she plunged into the crowd of pedestrians hustling north and south. Pivoting, she merged with the north-bound flow and elbowed her way to the edge of the sidewalk. A yellow taxi rolled to a stop, its brake lights shining like a beacon. Mandy pushed and shoved until she 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, she knocked the man out of the way and hopped into the back. Slamming the door closed on Business Suit’s furious face, Mandy barked, “Drive,” to the taxi driver.
“Where?” the black man asked, turning in his seat. Disapproval was written all over his expression.
“That way.” Mandy pointed to the direction in front of them.
“I’ll get an address in a minute.”
“You have cash?”
Mandy did not have time for this. Yanking her dwindling stack of bills out, she shoved a twenty into the slot.
The cabbie took it and put the car in gear.
Turning in the seat, she jammed her shoulder into the cracked upholstery and spied the black SUV right behind the car.
Shit!
Ripping her cellphone out of her pocket, she pulled up FBI Agent Mark Butler’s contact and hit send on his cellphone number.
After one ring, he answered. “Agent Butler.”
“Mark,” Mandy snapped, swallowing her heart pounding in her throat, “It’s Mandy Loomis.”
“Mandy—”
“Listen,” she cut him off. “I’m in trouble.” She flicked a glance at the cabbie and found his attention split between her and the road. “I was just a guest at Nolan’s house and Chance is still there.”
The light ahead turned yellow and Mandy leaned forward. “Run it. Don’t stop.”
The cabbie muttered, but did as she’d demanded.
“Where are you?” Mark demanded.
“In the back of a cab near Georgia Tech.” Her eyes slid to the back window and watched the SUV run the red light. “Two men are very persistent in their attempts to escort me. I need help and to fill you in.”
“Head to Piedmont Park,” Mark instructed, his blunt tone extra curt. “It’s a huge open green space in Midtown.”
Mandy repeated the instructions to the cabbie who instantly signaled, then turned right. Hard. She slapped her hand onto the bench seat to keep from falling over.
“A Fabulous Hair Band Festival started yesterday and ends tomorrow,” Mark kept explaining, “The eighties bands pack in large crowds. You can lose the thugs there. Call me back once your feet hit the ground. We’ll coordinate where to meet.”
Mandy hung up and tapped the phone against her thigh. Unable to sit still with so much adrenaline pouring though her veins, she carefully pulled out the object Chance had given her.
Oh my God. Clapping a hand over her mouth, the picture trembled in her fingers.
SEAL’s Homecoming: SEAL & Veteran Series: Book One Page 11
