Chapter Twenty-One
Dylan
There was nowhere for me to go except back to my shop. The crew had vacated to go watch football at their favorite dive bar, so I still had the place to myself. I remembered what Bethany and I had intended to do: search my shop for evidence of shady dealings.
Then we had gotten distracted.
I gave the Mercedes an appreciative pat, almost to convince myself I hadn't imagined the whole thing.
Was I going crazy?
"I know something's going on in here," I told my empty shop.
I began an obsessive search of my shop. It was easier to concentrate on that than my escalating feelings for Bethany. Any future relationship was balancing on a knife's edge, and I needed to find out how to make us stronger before we tipped.
I prowled around the shelves and studied each part box. Were there scuffs in the dust? Our parts collection was enormous and worth more than some of the cars we worked on. Rare parts, specific little finishes only obsessed collectors would notice, and new inventions that bridged the gap and made classics purr.
"Yeah, this isn't crazy behavior at all." I checked myself and that's when I saw it. "No way."
The tape sealing an expensive part box was sliced. I wouldn't have noticed but the lid was loose and had popped up slightly.
My shoulders felt heavy and my arms drooped as I reached for the box: it was true. A quick study of the part showed me it was a shoddy replacement pulled from a swap deal we'd done a month back.
Someone had made my hard-won career into a chop shop.
"Hey," I called Joey immediately. "You got eyes on everyone?"
"Except you. Stalking that lady lawyer again?" Joey asked over the roar of a touchdown celebration.
"Al's first gig was that swap deal, wasn't it?" I asked.
"Yeah, but he needed a hand, so Thomas chipped in, too," Joey said.
"Do me a favor; watch them both. Tell me if anything strikes you as odd," I said.
Joey agreed and spent about ten minutes recounting the plays of the game, complaining about the bar food, and teasing me about Bethany. I gritted my teeth and waited, fighting the temptation to tell my best friend what had just happened between Bethany and me.
He wouldn't believe me anyway. I hardly believed Bethany had let me make love to her on the Mercedes. My body went weak with lust just thinking of it.
I shook my head. "So? Anything?"
Joey finished a long drink of beer. "Well, Thomas is almost more of a sad sack than you. He just spent ten minutes trying to catch the pretty bar-back's eye. She's giving him the cold shoulder over something he did, and the idiot doesn't know what to do now."
I laughed. "He's just sitting there staring at her? Not good. All right, what about Al?"
"I don't know. His phone buzzed, and he looked at it like you'd look at a pair of kings on the poker table. He's been checking his watch ever since," Joey said. "Shit, Dylan. What does that mean?"
I told him about the part and my suspicions. Joey got real quiet. He had moved from the bar to the back alley, and I could hear him pacing on gravel.
"It can't be true. He's my flesh and blood, Dylan. My sister's boy," Joey said.
"I know he is, and I'm not saying he's the one. I'm just saying we need to find out who's responsible before they pin it on me and shut us all down." I was as torn as my partner; you didn't turn in family.
"You gotta take this to your fancy lawyer girl," Joey said. "She can grant him immunity or whatever. If it's him."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
Joey took a deep breath. "My sister told me how much he's been sending back, and it doesn't match up."
I jumped in my car and gunned it back to Bethany's office. I swung into the valet's circle at the hotel across the street and flagged down my betrayers.
"Tell your contact I'm here, boys. And you can forget about a tip this time," I said.
Bethany jogged down the steps and raced across the street in record time. "Dylan, you can't be here. This is totally inappropriate."
Her face was pale and furious. A twist of worry shot through my chest. "Is everything okay?" I asked.
"No, Dylan, I don't think it is. You are currently a suspect in a continuing investigation. A jury could possibly think you are trying to sway my attention away from your criminal activities."
I couldn't tell if she was seriously angry or just trying to warn me. Either way, it put me on edge.
I opened the car door. "We can't be seen together. I get it but let me say what I've come to say."
Bethany's eyes blazed as she noticed the car I was driving but she slipped into the passenger seat anyway. Her cheeks warmed as she looked out over the hood of the car.
"You had to drive this one?" she asked.
"I had the keys; it was the first one I saw when I found it," I explained.
Bethany roused herself. "Found what?"
For the first time, I found myself hesitating to tell her something. Why was she suddenly so cool? Was she starting to believe I had a part of the 'criminal activities' she was investigating?
"You don't think I'm telling the truth, do you? You think this whole thing is some elaborate set-up?" I gripped the steering wheel hard.
Bethany looked at my white knuckles. "Even you have to admit the timing is suspect. I had just gotten assigned this case and suddenly, there you were again."
"Exactly. Again. You know me, Bethany. You probably know me better than anyone."
She shook her head. "Just tell me what you came here to say. I have work to do and that has to come first."
"Then we'll figure out the rest of this?" I asked.
Bethany looked out the window. "One more minute and I'm leaving."
I slammed my palm down on the steering wheel. "You really think I'm capable of something like this? Running into you on purpose, stringing you along, and then play-acting that I was trying to clear my name? It doesn't even make sense."
She turned in her seat and pinned me with an angry look. "I don't know you, Dylan. You moved away a million years ago and we grew up. All I know about the time in between is that you had a few brushes with the law and then took-off for Europe. How is any of that supposed to make me believe you're innocent?"
I gripped the steering wheel again and pressed my forehead to the warm leather stitches. "I thought it was presumed innocent until proven guilty."
Bethany gave an angry gasp. "How dare you throw that in my face! I know that better than anyone. I also know when I'm being played. Why'd you lure me down here, Dylan? Do you actually have some evidence to share with me or are you just trying to distract me while another deal goes down?"
I sat up, shaking my head. "You slept with me, but you don't trust me?"
She balled her hands into fists and pounded them on her thighs. "Trust isn't a given! You have to earn trust. Yes, I slept with you. I don't know why. All I know is that I can't do whatever this is and still do my job."
"So, you're choosing your job over me," I said.
Bethany pressed one fist to her forehead and nodded. "Yes. I worked hard for my career and it has saved me more times than I can tell you. I had my job before you showed up, and I'm going to make damn sure I have it when you're gone."
I wanted to reach out to her, but Bethany was rigid. "What if I'm not going anywhere?"
She flattened her hands over her face. "I can't do this now, Dylan. I have to get back up to the office before this compromises everything. Just tell me what you came all the way here to say."
"I'm sorry, Bethany, but things have changed."
Her hands dropped, and she stared at me. "What?"
"I can't tell you what I discovered if you don't trust me. What's the point?" I asked.
Bethany collected herself and reached for the car door handle. "You're right. This was a waste of time."
I could have locked the door. I could have shifted into gear and sped Bethany far away. I could have shared the parts swapping evidence and made her see that I was innocent. But it was too late.
My past mistakes and reputation had finally caught up to me.
I let Bethany go. She moved at a stately pace, careful not to show any emotion as the valets watched her cross the street again. She was so beautiful, so poised, and so stiff with disappointment. Bethany deserved so much more, and I hoped she would find it someday.
In the meantime, I would back off. Her career came first and if my mere proximity caused it harm then I would make sure I kept my distance. I started the Mercedes and slid out of the valet circle; giving the boys a healthy tip so they would think twice about gossiping.
It took a few miles for me to convince myself that Bethany wasn't my only hope. I had just been looking for the easy way out. I wanted her to take on the responsibility of putting my crew under a microscope and doubting them.
And here I'd made a fuss over her very rightly having her doubts about me. The thought made me cringe. I could have been more understanding, but my chest still stung. If Bethany cared for me, she would have trusted me.
I thought about who I cared for and who I trusted.
Joey. There wasn't a doubt in my head that he was innocent. He might look like a hard case, but Joey was a good man. Plus, every thought he had jumped out his mouth and he would have incriminated himself long ago.
Thomas had been with us for years and was the steadiest man I had ever known. He didn't say much, was always pining over some woman, and showed up every single day like clockwork.
That left Al. My gut twisted as I thought about how Al was Joey's nephew. There was inherent loyalty in family, but I knew better than Joey how that could change. Anger and rebellion had broken my loyalty to my family, so I knew how outside forces could affect it.
Still, I would need absolute evidence before I put any blame on Al. And I would do everything in my power to make sure that kid stayed out of prison. I knew a lot about mistakes and second chances.
I wondered if I would ever get a second chance with Bethany.
It occurred to me that I was driving around aimlessly, looping the blocks between Bethany's office building and my own shop. I couldn't bear the thought of being back in my shop with criminal evidence all around me. My chest turned rock hard every time I thought about the possibility that I might end up back in prison.
As if the thought of bars and holding cells conjured her up, Jasmine trotted around the corner. She had a black sweater pulled tightly over her tiny snakeskin dress, but she was unmistakable. I slowed down as she wrapped a bandana around her bright hair and looked sharply behind her.
I jerked the Mercedes across traffic and made a tight, illegal turn in a fast food parking lot, so I could follow her.
Half a block down and I realized I had chosen the most terrible car for a tailing someone. The silver paint job flashed in the sun and the race car engine idled on the loud side. I parked it and blocked out the twinge of guilt for leaving the Mercedes so vulnerable on the street.
Jasmine was moving quickly for such a little thing in platform heels. I jumped out and followed her down the sidewalk.
She had been scared when she last saw me. It was hard to tell if her pleas for help had been part of the manipulation but I saw in her eyes that she was genuinely frightened of her future. Now the constant glances over her shoulder told me my impression was right. Jasmine was trying to get away from someone.
My fingers clenched into fists as I thought about her scumbag 'boyfriend.' I might end up in a holding cell again, but I couldn't stand the idea of a man his size hurting her. I jogged to catch up with Jasmine and confront her.
Then a black Charger roared around the corner and I had to dive behind a dumpster to escape being seen. The man I was gunning for, her hulk of a boyfriend, leaped out of the driver seat and grabbed Jasmine. He shoved her into the car and took off, leaving tire tracks exactly like the ones I had found outside my shop.