by Huss, JA
“Normally I’d agree. But Rook can’t know any of this if she’s gonna testify. She’s not a good witness, Spencer. Surely you can see that.”
I can see it. Rook is a mess. We were so damn lucky she held it together last fall when she gave her statement. Ford and I grilled her for almost three days before we let her loose. But we held the cards back then. We had the element of surprise.
This time they’re prepared for us.
So I drop it. If he doesn’t want to let me in on the details of what he knows, then he’s got a good reason for it. Ford is not impulsive. In fact, he over-thinks pretty much everything. Telling me this much was probably a huge concession on his part.
But keeping things from Ronin… that part is different. “Ronin’s the bullshit detector. He’s gonna catch on.”
“Well.” Ford huffs out a long breath. “Maybe it’s time we all went our separate ways? If he finds out, maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that, so I let it ride. Ford is stressed. He and I have been friends since we were six and I plan on being friends with him when we’re sixty.
But maybe some distance is a good thing? Once things are set right. Maybe we need to start new lives? Lives that include new teams filled with a wife and kids.
I think we’re all ready for that.
I head into downtown and look over at Sick Boyz as I pass and laugh internally. Ford is upset, so I’m trying to be sensitive. But I can’t help but smile because next to Ronnie’s new Blackbird is Carson’s car. And it’s waiting-room only at the local tat shop today.
“What’d you do?” Ford asks. “Don’t think I didn’t catch that shit-eating grin as we passed Ronnie’s work.”
I’m glad my friend has snapped out of the somber mood he created, even if it’s only to give me trouble about my nonexistent love life. “So Ronnie is holding down the fort at Sick Boyz, right? Everyone but her is down in the Springs at some tattoo thing. And she was bitching about her job last week, putting herself down, acting like what she does takes no talent at all and she’s wasting her potential.”
“Got it,” Ford replies at my pause.
“So I called up a local sorority and told them I was the brother of a sister in their house and I wanted to gift them all a tattoo at Sick Boyz.”
Ford looks over and smiles.
“You know, keep her busy and make her stop moping around. I get that she’s got the blood phobia, but last week, Ford, she admitted that it causes her panic attacks.”
“Really?” he says.
“Yeah, so I’m no expert in panic attacks, but I do know one thing. It’s an irrational reaction to a rational situation. I mean, is that about right?”
Ford’s father was a psychiatrist and he has a lot of experience in the head-shrinking department. He knows about this stuff better than I do.
“Yeah, basically. I mean, there’s lots of underlying reasons for it, but it’s irrational, that’s key.”
“Right. So I figure this is not something she should be allowed to run from, ya know? I mean, you gotta get this shit when it’s small. Nip it in the bud. Because she is one great tattoo artist. She’s like world fucking class. I’ve told all my new famous biker buddies about Sick Boyz, and they plan on taking advantage of her skills once the show starts. They’re going big-time over there. Soon. And if Ronnie really wants to quit, then more power to her. She can do whatever the fuck she wants with her life—as long as I’m in it, of course. But if she’s running from this job because she can’t breathe when she sees blood, well, that’s bullshit. So I told the house girls I’d pay up to a hundred bucks per tattoo and sent Carson over to help Ronnie run the place until her family gets back on Thursday.”
“Doesn’t Carson have a job at the bank his father runs?”
“Yeah, but he’s got a shitload of vacation time. That nerd never takes a day off. And he really does like Ronnie, as a friend, ya know?”
I turn left on Mountain and head to Ford’s house. He’s silent again. My plans for Ronnie can only drag him from his funk for so long. Maybe I’m not a parent, so I don’t get the scope of love Ford has for that little girl. But it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to understand that he’s all sorts of torn up about the thought of losing her.
When I get to his house, I pull up in front, fully planning on dropping him off and getting my ass back to work. But Ford looks over to me and sighs. “You need to come inside and hear this, Spence.” He pauses for a moment. “It’s game time.”
I throw the truck in first and shut it down as he exits, then get out and follow him up the front walk.
Ronin opens the front door before we get there, his face a mess of worry and stress. “Fuck,” he says as he logs Ford’s somber expression and the fact that I’m here with him. Because when we all get together like this over news, it only means one thing.
Bad shit is about to happen.
I follow Ford into the living room. Ashleigh is sitting on the couch, her feet all tucked up underneath her, leaning forward as Ford approaches and bends to kiss her cheek. He takes a seat and pulls her into a tight embrace.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she whispers. “Tell me, Ford.”
“It’s not so bad,” Ford lies.
I look over at Ronin and he’s got a puzzled look on his face. Ronin not only lies like a champ, he’s a human lie detector as well. Somehow, some way, that guy learned to read body language. I’m not sure if it came from being a little kid in a house with a very dangerous man—his real father went to prison for murdering his mother in front of him and his sister—or if it comes from modeling with girls in some very sensitive situations. But Ronin can smell bullshit even when it reeks of roses.
And Ford is full of shit.
“The request came from a law office in town, but when I hacked into their system, the original request came from a law office in San Diego.”
Ashleigh goes white. “My father? Or Tony’s family?” she asks. But we can all see she’s not even sure she wants the answer to that question.
Ford shrugs. “I can’t be sure. When I hacked into the database at the law office in SD, I got anonymous.” He pulls his wife in for another hug. “But listen, Kitten. Whoever it is, it’s not gonna to work. You have sole legal custody of Katelynn. Tony’s name is not even on the birth certificate. We’re married, end of story. People can file all kinds of bullshit legal actions, it doesn’t make them right and it won’t help them win.”
Ford waits for an answer, but all Ashleigh is capable of is a nod and a head tuck into his neck.
Poor Ashleigh. Talk about a girl who needs a break. She’s had enough drama for a lifetime. And while all of us here are no amateurs when it comes to drama, Ashleigh’s is so much more personal than anything we’ve been up to.
Plus, she’s our weakest link. Yeah, she made it out of her mess with Ford’s help. But she’s recovering from a major depression, the death of her baby’s father, and an attempted suicide.
Some muffled cries come from the hallway where the nursery must be, and Ashleigh springs into action. Rook eyeballs us, then follows her.
“That it?” Ronin asks, once Rook is out of hearing range.
“No,” Ford says. “Something is very wrong,” he says softly, so the girls won’t hear. “Something is very, very wrong.”
I take a seat in a chair, then lean forward and hold my head in my hands. “This is just one more thing, you guys. We’re being set up right now. We’re walking into a trap, I can fucking feel it.”
“What trap?” Ronin asks. “I mean, I feel something’s off too, but I can’t put any of it together in a way that makes sense.”
“It’s Drake,” I say. “I’m telling you, Ford. It’s Drake. We need that bot back. Did you go scope that shit out last night, Ronin?”
“Yeah, locked up tight, dude. We’re gonna have to get it out the same way we got it in. Drive it through the bay.”
“We can’t be seen over there again,” Ford says. “We gave ours
elves away the other night.”
“What about Ashleigh?” I ask.
“Go to fucking hell, Spencer,” Ford replies.
“Look.” I take my case to Ronin. He’s the final word as far as plans go. He can override Ford. “I get that she’s sad right now, but she’s the only option. She’s the only one with no connections. We need someone to go over there and get that fucking bot out.”
Ford scrubs his hands down his face. That’s a losing gesture and I know I’ve won.
“She’s on the Team,” Ronin says. “She knows she’s on the Team. She agreed to be on the Team. She’s gotta do her job, Ford. Or we’re gonna be blindsided. Hell, maybe someone can take your kid away. Maybe they’re just biding their time until the shit hits the fan. Maybe—”
“Maybe,” Ford interjects, “they started all this motorcycle bullshit, all this adoption bullshit, so they can distract us from the real issue.”
“Which is?” Ronin asks.
“Rook,” Ford replies. “Rook is the key here, OK? She’s testifying next week. I think all of this has to do with Rook.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” I counter. “I agree it looks fishy. And yeah, she’s the obvious target. But none of this is adding up to Rook, Ford. All of it’s adding up to your wife. Which means she needs to help us figure it the fuck out. You can’t say no.” He looks over at me and I stare at him hard and shake my head. “It’s gone too far, Ford. You should’ve thought of this before we started.”
“I’ll help,” Ashleigh says from the hallway. We all look over at her. “He’s right, Ford. This probably is all my fault. I don’t have any problem with the bot plan.”
“He’s wrong, Ashleigh,” Ford says, standing up and walking over to her. “This is about Rook’s past. This is about the guys we’re trying to send to prison. This is about the man Spencer murdered up in Boulder. This is about stealing millions of dollars from people with long memories. This is not about you.”
“Well,” Rook says from behind Ashleigh. She’s holding the baby and when I look over at Ronin he’s got a painful expression on his face. Probably thinking about the baby she lost. “If we’re a Team, then it’s about all of us. And if we’re a Team, then we stick together.” She looks over at Ford. “Ashleigh can do this, Ford. It doesn’t matter who’s involved, she needs to do her part, just like we all need to do ours.”
Ronin looks over to Ford. “Well?”
“Ford,” I say. “We’ll do it tomorrow at dinner. It will be light out, for fuck’s sake. Daytime. Drake’s complex will be busy with workers. One and done, dude. In and out.”
“If this goes bad and something happens to Ash or Rook, I will have your ass, Spencer.”
I squirm in my seat a little. He’s serious. If something happens to his wife, something ten times more terrifying will happen to me. “I’ll put the shine on this plan, don’t worry. I’ll make it airtight. We’re gonna win this. I haven’t figured out the game yet, but I will. We’re gonna win this and then we’re gonna put all this shit behind us.”
I take my time scanning the room of faces. Meeting each gaze for a few seconds before moving on. I end up back at Ford, then look over to Ronin one last time. “We’re gonna put this behind us and we’re never gonna look back. Is this clear? I don’t care what new bullshit comes our way. I don’t care who tries to fuck us over. I don’t care if we lose all our money and can’t pay the fucking rent. Once we fix our mistakes”—I look over at Rook—“once we put the bad guys away”—I settle on Ashleigh—“once we make it clear that you belong to us… we’re out. Forever. Because while Rook has Ronin and Ash has Ford, I have no one. I’ve kept Ronnie away from all this bullshit for a reason. And that reason is so we can spend our lives together. And I’m done waiting. It’s my turn to get what I want.”
I pause to see if anyone has anything to add.
“We’re in agreement, then? One last job.”
“One last job,” they all reply together.
I get up and walk out of Ford’s house and get in my truck before they see the look on my face.
Because that’s what they all say, right? Just one last job to make things right.
And we all know how that ends.
That one last job just fucks it all back up again. That one last job is usually the opening scene of a very long, fucked-up movie. That one last job always, always ends up with someone dead.
I’m just hoping that the dead guy at the end of our story isn’t one of us. Because if one of us dies, this will never end.
Chapter Eighteen - Spencer
When I get back to the shop there’s a big-ass black Mercedes waiting in the parking lot. I park the truck out back with the rest of the guys and go inside. This should be interesting.
As soon as I turn the corner that leads to the showroom I see our guest. A tall, blonde woman with bright blue eyes.
She’s chatting up Director Larry. Which is weird, because first of all, Director Larry isn’t in charge of shit in my shop. And second, Director Larry hates people. That’s why he’s the director. He sits on his ass in the control room calling the shots. But this Larry is smiling at the tall blonde.
“Can I help you?” I ask, as I walk up to the counter. She’s standing on the other side, like she’s a customer. She’s wearing a very fancy short yellow dress with brown stiletto boots that go to her knees.
Yeah. She’s definitely from out of town.
“We’re not open to the public, Ms.—”
“Li-Montgomery,” she replies as she extends a dainty hand in my direction.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and then scrub my hand down my face. “You’re Ashleigh’s sister?”
“That’s right,” she says in a curt tone, probably pissed off that I didn’t kiss her hand or some ridiculous shit like that. “And you are the infamous Spencer Shrike.”
I throw my hands up. “Guilty.” She narrows her eyes at me, probably wondering if I just admitted to my crimes or if I was joking. I don’t elaborate. “Like I said, we’re not open to the public. And Ford and Ash live down the street. If you want, I can call them up and let them know you’re in town.”
“That’s not why I’m here, Mr. Shrike.”
I wait a few beats. “Well, you gonna spit it out or what? I’m fucking busy.”
She scowls and narrows her eyes further at my swearing.
“Lady, I’m in a really bad fucking mood. I got a lot of shit going on, so if you have a reason for being here, start talking. Otherwise, get the fuck out of the shop.”
She straightens her dress a little and softens her expression, allowing for a small fake smile. “Have I offended you?”
I sigh, because it’s the only way I can suppress the eye roll. “Ford told us all about you, so cut the shit. He said you tried to take his kid away and I’m—”
“That child is not his, Mr. Shrike. Surely you can string a few simple facts together. That child is not his.”
“So you’re the one fucking up his life? Trying to contest the adoption?”
She smirks at me now. “That would not be me. Ashleigh already called me. She was quite unreasonable.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I nod at her. “So you live in town now? Or you just happened to be in the neighborhood? Or maybe you’re psychic and you knew the adoption would be contested? Which of these is true?”
She throws me another knowing smirk and now my paranoia is kicking into high gear. “It doesn’t take a psychic to see this coming, Mr. Shrike. It only takes intimate knowledge of the man Ashleigh thought she was in love with since she was a little girl.”
“The dead guy.”
“Well, some think he’s dead. But dead men do not file legal actions to prevent their infant daughters from being adopted.”
“Right. So who filed the papers? You? Your father? Tony’s parents? Because if this fucking guy is alive, he won’t be for long.”
“Why’s that, Mr. Shrike?” And then she leans in and whispers. “Killing is the way you handle
all your problems now? The first one’s the hardest, but it gets easier, doesn’t it?”
I recoil back from her words. “Honey,” I say in my normal voice. “You have no idea who I am or what I do. And this conversation is over.”
“Wait, Mr. Shrike.” She grabs my upper arm as I turn and this makes me stop and look her in the face.
“Do not fucking touch me,” I growl, shaking her hand off my arm.
“I don’t know if he’s alive,” she continues, like I never even spoke. “But I do know something isn’t right. And life isn’t as perfect as it looks from the outside with you and your… Team.”
“Yeah, well, that’s life, eh? You always gotta fight for it.” I walk over to the front door, unlock it, and push it open. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll let Ford know you’re in town in case he wants to get together.”
She walks through the door like she owns the place and makes her way to the car. The driver’s side door opens and a guy gets out and walks around to let her in the car.
Not the back, curiously. The guy settles her in the front seat.
“Her husband,” I say out loud.
“I feel sorry for him,” Ryan says behind me.
I turn around and let out a long breath. “This shit just gets better by the day.”
“Yeah? Well, I got some more bad news. The Feds came by earlier looking for Rook. Apparently there’s a new witness for the defense. A cop buddy of Jon’s from Chicago.”
My stomach flips.
“He says he tried to help Rook years ago. Found her at the house all black and blue. His name was not on the list of people tied up in that trafficking shit, so I guess he’s clean.”
I wait for it.
“He’s gonna testify that he offered Rook a way out, money, a shelter for battered women. A job.”
I turn away, shaking my head.
“She turned him down. And by this time, she was already well aware that they were selling girls in their barn.”
I’ve never talked to Ryan about what happened to Rook. I’ve never talked about it to any of them. And they never asked. We’re a business. They work for me. I do not share personal details about my life with the mechanics. But everything he just said, except for the new stuff about the witness, is public knowledge. And if the Feds came in and talked freely to a guy who looks more like a criminal than the man on trial, well… then this shit is all over the news by now.