Page 57 of Max's Mission

“Are you fucking serious?” His booming voice carried through the lobby. Pushing to his feet, he walked to the window. Margot’s gaze followed him. She agreed with the sentiment.

He spun around to glare at Marshal Marchand. “Why would he go into WitSec and not take Margot and the kids? Wouldn’t they still be in danger?”

Marchand glanced away for a brief moment, his expression souring. “At the time, no.”

His wording removed the block from Margot’s voice, and she turned to face him. “What do you mean, ‘At the time’? Is there danger now?” Her heart thumped and did a quick flip in her chest.

The girls!

“We need to call Dean.” She surged out of her chair and turned panicked eyes on Max, who already had his phone out.

Marchand patted the air. “Let’s slow down. I agree, we need to put some protections in place, but may I explain first?”

A burst of anger pushed away some of the fright filling her chest. Spinning around, she pinned him with an icy glare. “That would be a wonderful idea, yes.”

The marshal didn’t waste time. “Your ex-husband borrowed money from a small criminal organization the FBI has been watching for some time. One of their undercover operatives embedded in the horse racing scene buddied up to him, got to know him a bit. The plan was to catch Tad making illegal bets and force his hand so he would testify against the group. But before that could happen, he defaulted on his payments again. And when I say again, I mean for probably the fourth or fifth time. The head of this organization, Devin Owens, decided he’d had enough and threatened to expose Tad to the hospital board.” Marchand’s gaze flicked to Max, who watched with his arms crossed, phone clutched in his hand so hard his knuckles were white.

“It freaked Tad out,” Marchand continued. “He didn’t know that Owens knew who he was. He’d given a fake name. Thomas Villanova.”

Her jaw worked as she seethed. Was that the only reason Tad was scared? Because he’d lose his medical license? What about what could have happened to their family?

“Our operative cornered Tad shortly after that. By then, he had enough evidence to bring charges against your ex for fraud and illegal gambling. And he offered him an option: testify against Owens or face charges.”

Max held up a finger. “One thing doesn’t make sense. How did he end up in WitSec? Threatening to expose someone doesn’t sound particularly violent.”

“It’s not. But the people Owens partnered with are.”

Margot frowned, the fear creeping back in to spread dark tendrils through her body. What did that mean?

Marchand noticed the change in her demeanor and held up a hand. “I’m getting there, I promise. So, the FBI only had bits and pieces of evidence against Owens. They needed something bigger. Something that would put him away for many years and dismantle his criminal enterprise, or it would just spring back up under his minions. The operative convinced Tad to cooperate. They gave him enough cash to pay off some of his debts and get him back into the fold. It worked. He was back in and soon gained more of Owens’s trust. Enough to make him offer Tad an opportunity to get completely square.”

“The bank robbery.” Max dropped his arms and walked closer, stopping beside Margot.

She shuffled her feet until her shoulder touched his arm, needing the physical touch to calm the riot of emotions bouncing around her head.

Marchand nodded. “Exactly. And this is where the violent partners come in. Owens had grand plans. He wanted to be like Benny Binion, an old-timey bookie and hotelier. But opening a fancy hotel takes seed money, and he was having trouble getting investors. No one wanted to take on a project like that from an unknown, who didn’t have backing already. It was a catch twenty-two for Owens; he needed investors to get investors. So, his plan was to set up a shell corporation and funnel the robbery money through there. Make it look legit so he could persuade others to invest.”

Marchand paused, eyeing another traveler who walked past. Standing, the marshal eased closer, and once the man was out of earshot, he continued. “Tad was the getaway driver.”

“If the FBI knew all of this, why let them go ahead with the robbery?” Max aimed a questioning glare at Dye. “Why wouldn’t the place be full of undercover agents, ready to take them down?”

Slowly, Dye rose from his seat, casting a quick glance at Marchand. “That was the plan. From what I understand. I only know what he knows.” He pointed at the marshal. “It’s not my case.”

“There was a whole, elaborate op in the works. But Fred Berry, the head of the robbery gang, got antsy and jumped the gun.”

“Okay, so they robbed the bank and took off with Tad at the wheel. How did he end up with you?” Max tipped a finger toward Marchand.

“Berry tried to kill him.”

Margot covered her mouth, feeling tears well in her eyes.

Jesus. Why hadn’t he come to her? Sure, she’d have been upset, but they could have done something to pay off his debts and get him help. She could have sold the jewelry her parents left her, or a couple of the coins. At least it would have kept him out of danger.

“Apparently, it was a snap decision and Berry’s a bad shot,” Dye said.

Marchand shifted, casting a quick glance around the lobby. “Tad said he was standing by the car, and when Berry pulled out the gun, he dove into the driver’s seat and just took off. We found a bullet embedded in the bumper, but no other marks.”

“Why didn’t he come straight to his FBI contact?” Max asked.

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