by Huss, JA
I laugh. “Oh, I do. Believe me. I do. But I need you and there’s that little matter of murder being illegal. So no, I’m not going to kill you. I need you.”
“For what?” he asks, his voice cracking a little.
“How much money did she ask for?”
“Twenty, why?”
“Twenty grand? And you were gonna tell her no?” Fuck, twenty grand. I have that stuffed in my fucking sock drawer at home. I sigh. “Well, Carson, you’re not gonna make that call at four, OK? You’re gonna make that call at nine AM. You’re gonna get her on the phone and you’re gonna tell her yes. With conditions.”
“I can’t, Mr. Shrike! She’s got no co-signer, she makes less than two thousand dollars a month, and she’s got no down—”
“Carson,” I interrupt him, using my angry voice. “Shut the fuck up and listen. You will call her, you will tell her yes. But then once she’s all happy and screaming with joy, you tell her the conditions. She needs to have a full-time job. She needs to make thirty-seven grand a year. She needs to buy something big to establish her credit, like a car. And she needs to have all that in a week, or your boss will yank the application and make her reapply. You tell her the reapplication process is more grueling. Tell her once she gets turned down, it’s a black mark. You tell her she needs to hustle this shit up pronto, you got it, Carson?”
He just stares at me.
“Carson? I asked you a fucking question.”
“Uh, yeah. But… why?”
“Why?” I laugh. “You got it right the first time, asshole. I love her. I want her to be happy. I can’t be with her right now for obvious reasons, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let her go. So you’re gonna do me one more favor. You’re gonna take her out on dates. Nice places, dinners—”
Carson Reed throws his hands up. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t do that, Mr. Shrike. She’s…” He stops and physically turns all the way around. “She’s…”
“What? She’s what?”
“Intense, Mr. Shrike.”
“Dammit, quit fucking calling me that. It’s Spencer.”
“Spencer,” he says hurriedly. “She’s way out of my league. She’s not my type. I mean, she’s gorgeous and she’s got, well, you know what she’s got. But I don’t like the wild ones, I like the quiet ones. And Veronica Vaughn is always on the verge of exploding, that’s how wound up she is. She’s the opposite of calm, Spencer. Wild isn’t even a wild enough term to describe this girl. She’s like a loose cannon, she’s like fireworks, she’s like—”
“A bomb,” I say, cutting him off. I smile. I love this characterization of my Bombshell. She’s feisty.
“She’s not into me, I’ll tell you that right now. I’m not into her. We went on one real date awhile back, but I pretty much knew it would never work right away. She just needs a loan and I’ve been stringing her along because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. And I’ll tell you now, my boss will never approve her loan. She’s risky—”
“I’m the fucking bank, Reed. God, you are dumb for being so fucking smart. I’m giving her the money, asshole. Just do as I tell you and I’ll have that dough deposited into her account in thirty days. It’ll look like it came from your bank. All you have to do is make the call today, tell her the conditions, and take her out somewhere fancy and treat her nice, once a week.”
“What if she won’t go out with me?”
“Make her go, Reed. You tell her you’re just friends if you want, but you will take her out and treat her nice once a fucking week.”
He squints his eyes at me and then turns so he’s facing forward again. “Well, what do I get out of it? You’re obviously not going to kill me, so what’s my motivation?”
So he does have a spine. That’s good to know. “What do you want?”
He smiles in the rear-view, like a kid grinning ear to ear. “A custom bike.”
I laugh. “A custom bike? From me? That’s like a hundred grand, Reed.”
“Wellllll,” he says, drawing the words out slowly. “She’s worth it, right?”
Damn. The pencil-pusher’s got me.
“I want one of those bikes you make and I want to have a say in what it looks like. I think that’s fair.”
I shrug. What do I care. He’s doing me a business favor, I can do him one back. “OK, stop by my house shop tonight and we’ll work out the details. But Carson, I need her to understand she must have a job, OK? I offered her a job working for me as my personal assistant a few hours ago. I need her to call me today and give me a yes. Push that. Get her to make the call and accept my offer, without letting her know you know about it, and we’re on. I’ll make you any bike you want.”
He turns around in his seat again and we shake on it. “Deal.”
Chapter Eleven
It’s six o’clock by the time she makes the call. “Spencer?” she asks after my cheerful, “Yello.”
“I thought you hated me, Bombshell? You love me again?”
She sighs and I beam a smile over at Carson. He thumbs me up as he peruses the catalog of accessories for his fucking custom bike.
“Spencer, I’ve been thinking about your offer. It was very generous. And—” I can actually hear her swallow, that’s how loud it is. She’s having trouble eating her crow, but I let her stew. She needs to eat the whole bird tonight. Feathers and all. Because she’s just not seeing the big picture and I need to her pay attention to what the fuck I’m trying to accomplish here. “I’d like to take you up on that job offer. If it’s still available,” she adds quickly.
“Well, I was gonna offer it to Carla, the burrito girl at Big City, but I haven’t talked to her yet. I don’t pick her up for our weekly date until eight.”
I can almost feel Ronnie’s seething anger over the phone. I look over at Carson and he’s shaking his head at me. I put up a hand and wink.
“Well, I want the job. So is it available or not?”
She’s mad now and I smile. I like my Bombshell on the verge of exploding. That’s the only way I know she’s OK. When she’s quiet and contemplative, that’s when I know she’s having trouble. Ronnie is tough as nails, and while I understand she really wants to be treated tenderly, she’s just not there yet. So the bad-girl routine is all she’s got.
“Veronica,” I say softly so I can set her back a little.
“Yes?”
“Even if I did offer Carla that job, I’d never choose her over you, baby. Never.”
She snorts. “That’s funny. You have a date with her tonight though, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So if I ask you to take me out instead of her, would you?”
“No, baby. I can’t.”
“But I can have a job?”
“Yes. The job is yours.”
“That makes no sense, Spencer Shrike.”
“That’s because you have no details, Veronica Vaughn.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Someday, Bomb. Someday I’ll tell you everything. From start to finish. But not tonight.” She’s silent after that. She might even be crying. “It’s a virtual job, remember?”
“Yes,” she squeaks out.
“I’ll text you all the info to access my email accounts on Monday. We’ll start there for now. We don’t need to see each other, just texts and phone calls. Got it?”
She’s silent for almost ten seconds before she manages to acknowledge me. “Got it, Spencer. I’ll talk to you Monday then.”
“Right. Oh, and Ronnie?”
“Yeah?” she comes back with some hope in her voice.
“I think you should date that banker. If he’s still interested, that is. Because I had Ford check him out, and he’s a good guy. I’d like for you to find yourself a good guy, Ronnie. So if I’ve screwed anything up, I’m sorry. Maybe try and explain I’m just a dick and you’re done with me.”
This time when she answers I know she’s crying. She manages an, “OK,” and then the phone beeps three times an
d the call is over.
“Shit, Shrike,” Carson says from his perch on my crappy desk. “That was fucked up.”
“She’ll get over it, Reed. Just do your part and I’ll do mine. You got an idea what you want? Because I really do have to meet Carla soon.”
Carson shakes his head at me. “What the hell? Why are you seeing other girls if you love the Bombshell?”
I sigh. “Carla and I go line-dancing on Thursday nights. Ronnie loves to line-dance but I’ve never gone with her because I just can’t afford to be seen with her in public like that. But soon, I will be dating her, Carson. Soon. So I’m getting ready for that day. Carla offered to teach me and every Thursday night we practice at the Sundance Saloon. Fridays, I hang out with Renee from the Cat Call. I watch the strippers so people think I’m available. And Renee is the bartender. She flirts with me and I keep an extra eye out for her when the bar gets crazy. They have shit bouncers over there. Saturdays I hang out with Kim from the Broomfield Harley store. She’s on a bowling league down there. Ronnie’s brothers have a bowling league up here in FoCo. And as soon as life settles down, I’m in. I want to insert myself into Ronnie’s life. I want to be accepted by her family and I figure bowling with them is a good way to do that.”
Carson laughs a little. “So you’re not fucking any other girls?”
“Hell the fuck no. I haven’t had a bit of fucking fun since New Year’s when I saw Ronnie last. This trial shit, Carson—this trial shit is big fucking time. These people are not playing around. My friends and I are in deep, man. I do not have time to fuck, or drink, or worry about shit like that. Hell, I barely have time to think about the show.”
“You really do love her?” He looks at me hard now. Like he’s changing his opinion of me on the spot.
“I really do. But by the time I get my chance to tell her, she might not love me back.”
“Well, fuck. I really had no clue.”
“That’s how it has to stay, Reed. You got it? No one can know I love her. No one. Did you see what happened to Rook Corvus last fall?”
Carson nods his head. “Yeah, I felt sorry for her.”
“Well, my Ronnie will not survive that. OK? She won’t. I cannot have those filthy reporters following her around like animals, trying to ruin her life and make her freak out for the cameras. Rook has no ties to anyone but us. She was easy to protect. Ronnie has all kinds of family. There are so many ways to get to her. So many people she loves who can be hurt to get even. I need to keep her and her entire family safe.”
He nods at me. “OK, then. I get it. I’m in.”
“In?”
“Yeah, I’m in. I’ll keep your secret for you, Shrike. I’m in. I don’t know the whole story and frankly, I do not care. But what you guys did last fall… that was some brave shit. Those assholes all need to go to jail. So if keeping my eye on Ronnie helps you finish them off, you can count on me.”
I let out a long breath.
I am one lucky motherfucker.
Not because I got away with murder.
Not because I have a TV show.
Not because I came from a good family or was well-educated, or because I can build bikes or paint naked girls.
I’m a lucky guy because I have friends.
And I’m gonna need every single one of them, because the shit is about to get ugly.
Guns
A Spencer Shrike Novel
Description
Spencer Shrike is a man with a plan—
—Get in. Get out. Move on. He loves Ron the Bomb, and her safety is the only thing on his mind. But life is a tricky bastard. And conning criminals for the better part of ten years brings its own set of problems. Sure, Rook lied her way out of a sticky situation, covering for Ronin, Ford, and Spencer’s crimes in the process. But not everyone is buying her story and Spencer is desperate to figure out who’s in town setting them up for a fall.
Veronica the Bombshell Vaughn has put up with Spencer Shrike’s shit for years and where has it gotten her? A big fat nowhere. No ring, no house, no kids, and no promises. In fact, Spencer is worse than ever—distant and moody. She’s done sitting at home, pining over a man she can’t have. She’s tired of being ignored and she’s coming out swinging.
Now there’s another man in town with his eye on her. He’s got secrets too, and he’s more than willing to share. She’s ready to jump ship. Because the last thing on Spencer’s mind is a relationship, and Ron the Bomb has had enough.
The entire Rook and Ronin series comes full circle. Every con, every lie, and every skeleton in the closet is back for one final shot at vengeance and the only way to set it right… is with GUNS.
Chapter One - Spencer
“The first rule of Shrike Club is never talk about Shrike Club.”
“Aw, Spencer,” Ronin complains. He’s standing in my new Shrike Bikes office looking out the window that faces into the bays of my new garage. It’s a nice big place, beats the shit out of the old shop in back of my farmhouse in Bellvue. “Stop, man. It’s sad.”
“Yes, I have to agree with Ronin,” Ford says in his dry tone that makes me roll my eyes. Like he’s so mature. “It’s not funny.”
I look over at Carson, the banker-turned-Club member who is helping me keep Veronica out of trouble while the Team cleans up the mess we’ve been dragging behind us for the past several years. “Don’t listen to them. That joke was perfect. And the timing—”
“I don’t get it,” he says.
Ronin drags his attention from the window where he’s keeping a lookout for Rook, and Ford glances up from his computer. “Don’t get what?” we all say together.
“Shrike Club. It’s a joke? I don’t get it.”
I look over at Ford and he’s got his eyebrows up towards the ceiling. “It’s a book,” he says with disbelief.
“Book?” I say, laughing. “Carson”—I grab him by the arm and push him away from Ford—“don’t listen to him. It’s a fucking movie. Fight Club? How could you have never heard of Fight Club?”
He squints his eyes a little. “Yeah, I’ve heard of Fight Club, but I don’t get it.”
“‘The first rule of Fight Club is never talk about Fight Club?’” I ask, still slightly hopeful.
Carson gives me nothing.
“Did you see Fight Club?” Ronin asks.
“No.”
“That’s it,” Ford says, slapping his laptop closed. “We can’t work with a guy who’s never seen Fight Club. It’s absurd. Real men watch Fight Club. It’s like Full Metal Jacket or… or… The Godfather. It’s something we all do as men. Carson.” He pushes past me and stands in front of the banker. “You’re out of the Club. Sorry.”
Ronin turns back to the window and Carson begins to leave.
“Carson, sit the fuck down. You’re not out. He’s joking.”
“He doesn’t look like he’s joking,” Carson replies.
I sigh. Carson is not on the Team. Only Ronin, Rook, Ford, Ashleigh, and me are on the Team. But we have a new JV version of the Team that we’re calling the Club, and Carson is the first official prospect. He’s my spy. I need him. And I need Ronin and Ford to be on board with this.
Rook has been demoted to honorary Team member only. We’re done getting her involved in shit. In fact, all the girls are out. Ashleigh and Rook will not be a part of our little schemes from now on. And Ronnie was never part of the Team, so she’s never even gonna get close to being involved. I need Carson to pull this off, because I’ve got Ronnie working for me as my personal assistant to keep my eye on her without getting too close, and he’s my key to keeping her semi-in love with me until Agent Abelli’s trial is over. Abelli is the FBI asshole who wrongfully imprisoned Ronin, tortured Rook’s ex-husband, and threatened to sell her to a Columbian drug lord. Most of that happened here in Fort Collins, so the federal judge decided the trial would stay in Colorado.
None of the other defendants require Rook to be a witness because they all made deals. We just have this
one trial to get through, then we can put all this bullshit behind us.
“Spencer,” Ronin interrupts my thoughts. “When did you say Rook called? You did hide the keys, right?”
“Ronin, I’m trying to work here. She wants the motorcycle back, let her pick the thing up and bring it here.”
“No,” Ford says emphatically. “Ronin, do not give in. Be strong. She’s much safer with no car and no motorcycle. You never know when she’ll get the urge to go save someone and take off. Take Ashleigh, she walks everywhere. I love it. No car. She’s totally localized. I’ve got no fewer than five guys on her at any one time. She has no clue she’s being guarded day and night. You should let me set this up for Rook too. Ashleigh is predictable, Rook is… not.” He stops and looks over at me. “And Ronnie,” he huffs. “Don’t even get me started on how explosive she is. You need more than this guy to keep her in line, Spencer. Face facts here. This guy is not enough. He’s clueless.”
“Anyway.” I shake my head. “Carson, you will go home tonight and watch Fight Club, got it? That cool with you guys?” I wait.
But Ronin is still peeking through the blinds and Ford is checking his fingernails.
“OK, that’s a yes.”
Ronin turns to object but that’s when I see Rook storming down the aisle, blowing past all my mechanics as she fumes her way towards my office, trailed by a three-man camera crew. “Shit, Ronin. Here she comes.”
Ford pushes Carson until he stumbles backwards and ends up sitting on the edge of a metal table in the corner of the room, then he and I stand in front of him as Ronin takes point.
Rook does not knock. She doesn’t have to, she’s Rook. So she bursts through the door huffing mad. “Ronin,” she says through clenched teeth. “I need those truck keys. I know you told the guys not to give them to me, but I’m going to get that motorcycle right now.”
She stomps her foot and we all laugh. Fucking Rook. She’s adorable.