Chapter 18

Ford

I have never in my life worn a wire, never thought I would be in a position to do so. It's weird how things work out. Here I am, at the garage, finishing up the work on Doogie's car, running through all the ways this shit could go south. There are a multitude. The only thing keeping me positive is that I know I can get this man put behind bars, and hopefully if that happens, Ashley will be able to live the life she's always wanted to.

At the same time, maybe I can convince her to live that life with me.

I've purposely set this up to happen before the garage opens. In my ear, I can hear Troy. "Doogie's parking down the block, whatever you have planned, just know you've got limited time before he shows up."

Troy is the only person in law enforcement I trust. The only one I've ever trusted. He's one of the only people I also respect. So I know if he's telling me this I need to take heed. "Thanks, I'll be ready as soon as he gets here."

Doogie doesn't even knock, just walks in like he owns the fucking place. I guess though, that's what he believes about everything. "Got your message last night, Ford. My ride is ready?"

I wipe my hands on a rag, and lean against the fender. "Yup, it's been a fuckin' pain in my ass. What the hell did you hit? I assumed a mailbox or some shit like that. Let me know what it was so I can stay far away, I do not want to have to fix my own if I happen to hit it. The shit I had to do—I don't think you understand. I should be charging you double what I did."

The thing about Doogie? Although he should keep his mouth shut half the time, he just can't. He's a talker, and he likes to brag. Self‐preservation isn't a thing for him, he'd much rather be seen as what he believes himself to be—a badass. "Mailbox? That's what you think I hit? C'mon Ford."

"I have not a clue. The shit people have brought to me over the years runs together, and with these new composites, I mean you never know. It's just a question. You can answer it or not." I act like it doesn't matter to me either way. This is going to make him want to talk, and give it all up.

"Wasn't a goddamn mailbox, Ford. I'd think someone who's done bodywork his whole life would know that, but I guess you aren't as smart as I gave you credit for."

"We all can't be as smart as you, Doogie."

For a few moments, I let him sit on that, let him revel in the fact I just paid him a compliment. For him, it doesn't matter if it was backhanded or not. He's going to take it.

"Guess you can't. Makes sense that my daughter chose you, she's never been the smartest in the room either. It was a bike." He winks, taking a toothpick out of his pocket and sliding it into his mouth.

"A bike? Like a motorcycle?" I play dumb.

"No." He rolls his eyes, losing patience. "Some bitch was on a bicycle in front of me out on a backroad and wouldn't get out of the way. Doesn't she know who I am? I honked three times, and she wouldn't move. So I had to move her." He shrugs. "Which brings me to why I wanted you to do the work. Didn't want you to run to the cops and let them know."

I nod, running my tongue over my teeth. "That's fucked up, man. I never expected you to be that cold‐hearted."

"Maybe you're just soft now that you have a kid."

I'm beginning to realize how true that probably is. I reach my hand out. "I'll take that payment, and you can be on your way. Don't come back to me for help. This was a one‐time thing, Doogie."

"Do you know how many people have said that to me?" He gives me that smile that makes my skin crawl. "There are a lot of people who've told me that and then for some reason or another, we've had to do work together again."

I sigh heavily, hand him his keys, pocket the money and then head for the back of the garage. As I slip out the back door, I wait for a long, few minutes until I hear Doogie leave. Once he does, I continue to be patient, and around three minutes later, I hear sirens. Not too long afterward, I get a text from Troy telling me they've taken Doogie into custody.

I take my phone out of my pocket and quickly dial Ashley's number. She's at work, but she answers on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"It's done. Troy took him into custody, and I got the confession. If it all sticks, which there's no reason it shouldn't, he'll be going away for a while. You don't have to worry anymore."

She breathes out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Chevy. You didn't have to do that. I'm aware that you put your life and Felicity's in danger. I appreciate it more than you know."

I've never done anything in my life for anyone to thank me, or to be the good guy. I'm typically the guy fucking things up and then having to fix it. This is uncomfortable in more ways than I can explain. "You're welcome. We may not have a future, Ash, and I'm not here to ask you for shit you can't give me, but there isn't much I wouldn't do for you and my daughter, and I just want you to know that."

The silence stretches longer than I like and I'm worried she's hung up. "I like you, Ford. I just need patience."

"You've got all you need. That I can promise."