Chapter Seventeen
Dylan
I could have sworn the socket wrench set had moved. Even it was only a few inches off, it gave me a shock of worry. Had someone been in the shop after hours?
I could have dismissed it, but this was the fifth aberration I had encountered in the last week. Nothing moved in my shop that I couldn't account for but lately things had been moving around with a mind of their own.
We didn't have high-tech security. The building itself was keypad protected and my team was limited to a very small circle of steady employees. Everyone else was hired on a contract basis but we hadn't done any specialized work like that for ages.
And I knew you couldn't just hack an eleven-digit security code. That was the whole point of memorizing something so laborious and making my small team do the same. We spent hours trying to make up little tricks to remember it. And most weeks we all screwed up at least once.
I could vouch for the fact that the building locked up tight when the keypad was triggered.
I took a step back and forced myself to breathe.
It was entirely possible that I was just driving myself crazy. My disastrous pancake breakfast with Bethany had been three days ago and though she assured me nothing was wrong, I hadn't heard from her again.
At first, it hadn't been a problem. I was a big boy, I had my own life, but then I saw so many small things to worry about that I started to worry about everything. The second night I had drank too much trying to remind myself how I used to handle situations like this so well.
While I waited and tried to play it cool, I was spending too much time at work. The night before had been the only time I had left before one in the morning.
Who would have come in after then?
After a violent car-jacking had been committed, social media was full of speculative articles. Everyone kept citing an enormous chop shop ring the DA had announced she would dismantle. It had me worried how closely the cars that were targeted fit the description of those I customized.
I searched the shop for any further evidence someone had been inside after me last night. That was easier than admitting I might be obsessing over nothing because it beat worrying about if I would ever hear from Bethany again.
Then I found fresh paint flecks on the floor.
"Al? I'm seeing this right? Yellow paint flecks?" I turned to my youngest crew member who had the sharpest eyes.
He shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe?"
"What do you mean, maybe? Either you see them or you don't," I snapped.
The young man inched toward me, the color draining from his face. "I see them."
I studied his pale demeanor. "You have anything you want to tell me?"
"It's… not what you think." His voice cracked, and Al took a second to collect himself. "I came in the shop last night, after you left. I know it was wrong, but I was just doing a quick favor for someone."
I gritted my teeth. "Who?"
The young man looked ready to fall over. "My, my girlfriend. Or at least I'm hoping she'll be my girlfriend. We met a couple of months back—"
I held up my hand and stopped him right there. "So, you know the price of a new paint job is going to come straight out of your pay, right?"
Al nodded and shook my hand. "Fair. Very fair. I'm so sorry, Mr. Wylde. I won't screw up again."
I couldn't figure out why Al would be so nervous until I cornered Joey in our office. "What's your nephew got to be so jumpy about?"
"Are you on the kid's case? That might make anyone jumpy," Joey said.
"I know, I know I've been a little crazy these past few days, but that's not what this is about. We can't have people coming in here after hours. What if someone reports it and we get on the DA's list of possible chop shops?" I asked.
Joey held up his hands. "Whoa, slow down there. Let's just start with the facts: things have been moved around the shop. Al 'fessed up to using the shop after you left last night. Al is nervous."
"Who's the girlfriend?" I snapped.
Joey kept his hands up. "I don't know about any girlfriend, but I do know that my sister is hard up for money and her son there worries a lot about her. Does that answer any of your questions?"
I slumped in an office chair. "And he doesn't want to lose his job. Tell him we're cool, okay?"
Joey rolled his chair closer and slapped me on the leg. "All right, now that that bit of crazy is out of the way, why don't we talk about you?"
I groaned. "Men don't do that, right? We don't have to do that."
"Fine," Joey chuckled. "It's your brain that'll explode."
"I can't stop thinking about Bethany," I confessed in an angry rush.
Joey threw his hands up and rocked far back in his office chair. His laughter kept rolling for at least a minute before he managed to catch his breath. "Sorry, man. It's just I've waited years for this. A woman's finally got your number!"
"More than that, Joey. I think I'm in serious trouble here," I said.
My friend sobered up and patted me on the shoulder. "Just call her. You can't clear up any of this by yourself."
"She's busy. Remember that big job of hers?" I slumped farther down in my office chair.
"Then she won't answer your phone call and you'll know for sure." Joey gave me a decisive slap on the knee and stood up. "God, I hope she gets you out of this place for a few days. You need a little fresh air, my friend."
I took my phone and my friend's advice and went outside to the alley to call Bethany. She took my call right away and suddenly I didn't have any breath.
"Just wondering how you are," I said more tightly than I wanted.
Bethany gasped. "Dylan! I'm so sorry. I meant to call but things at work have just been so out of hand."
"Yeah, I saw a little bit about your case on the Internet. Is that why you asked me about all those cars on the way to the inn?"
It was supposed to be a joke, but Bethany's pause made me wonder.
"I can't believe women don't ask you about cars. You seem to have women approach you all the time," Bethany said finally.
I was confused but plunged ahead anyway. "So, no more weekends off?"
Again, she paused and then: "Dylan, this case is really overtaking my life."
Even after hearing her tone cool, I couldn't help but want to ask her out. It was on the tip of my tongue even as my brain screamed caution. Was I being crazy like I'd been at work or did Bethany sound mad at me?
"You got anything else on your mind?" I asked.
Bethany snorted. "Like you?"
"Hey, a man can hope, can't he?"
Her tone softened. "Are you hoping to ask me out again?"
I wanted to, I was about to but then I saw strange tire tracks in the back alley. The hairs on the back of my neck rose up. Someone had been here, and it wasn't just Al. He didn't drive a Charger.
"I do but now might not be the time, huh?" I followed the tire tracks and wondered what else I was missing.
Bethany's voice sounded warm like she was smiling. "Why? Do you already have a date to that big Halloween ball at Mr. Maxwell's?"
"What? Oh, I suppose you saw the articles about that in all those car magazines. He's quite the connoisseur." I scratched my chin and then jolted. "And, no. I don't have a date."
There was a long stretch and then Bethany's tight voice saying, "I'm sorry. I can't do this right now. I have to go."
Was she about to cry when she hung up on me?
I pocketed my phone and decided I was in no state to find out. I couldn't bring my new paranoia and crazy evidence to Bethany. If I had problems at work, I knew I had better sort them out before I asked Bethany out again. She was the kind of woman who wouldn't come around if there was too much extra drama in my life.
I marched back into the office, and Joey peeked out from under the hood of an Aston Martin.
"That bad?" he asked.
"Who do we know that drives a Charger?" I asked.
Joey laughed. "I know some guys."
"Have they visited the shop recently?" I asked.
"No. Why?" Joey put down his wrench and wiped off his hands.
I showed him the tire tracks in the back and he even went so far as to measure them. I was right. A Charger had been parked out back of our shop recently.
"Now, we don't know if this has anything to do with Al," Joey said.
I nodded. "I'm not about to accuse him with no proof. I mean, maybe it was just a friend of his or something."
"Then what are we doing here, Dylan?" Joey asked.
"We're keeping our eyes open. There are plenty of car thieves who would love to use a shop like ours to disguise high-priced loot," I said.
"And, in the meantime, want to talk about Bethany?" Joey asked.
"What are you? A talk-show psychiatrist? She's busy at work. That's it." I headed back for the alley door.
"Where are you going now?" Joey called.
I didn't say. My friend would have laughed himself hoarse if he knew I left the shop and went directly to check on Bethany.
I don't know why. I just needed to see her. There was something off between us, and I wanted to make sure I hadn't imagined the feelings I had for her. So, I camped outside her office building until I saw her leave with her bouncy friend, Annie.
It was still there. The chest-warming, heavy-breath kind of feeling that Bethany gave me.
I didn't know what to call it. I'd never really been in love before.
All I knew was that when every tiny thing was making me worried, Bethany felt like the cure.
There was no doubt any more. My feelings for Bethany were getting stronger, stronger than I'd ever had for any other woman. I didn't mind telling myself that I had to wait before I revealed such things to her. It was much easier to head back to work and try to unknot my suspicions than it was to face the facts.
I was falling in love with Bethany, but she probably didn't feel the same.