by Huss, JA
My shoulders sag as I get off the bike and greet Carson. I open the door, flip the sign to open, and then head back to my room as Carson talks to me from the register.
I don’t hear any of it though, because all I can think about is how I’m on the wrong side.
I’m totally on the wrong side.
But it doesn’t matter.
Bobby Mansi made it crystal clear. If he dies, I’ll lose everything. Because he won’t fix the trial until his mission is complete. And I’m not even sure what that mission is, but I need to be on board. Because if Rook testifies… all my friends go to jail.
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Spencer
“Hello? You dumbasses still there?”
Ronin and I just look at the phone on my desk. I’m so fucking distracted today about Veronica, I should just go home. I loved her being here in the building this morning, but now she’s at work and Carson, damn. That guy is a lot of things, but a hero isn’t one of them.
“We’re here,” Ronin says. “Just… processing.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Say it again. Because I’m pretty sure you just said you saw Ashleigh’s sister drive by six times.”
Silence from Ford means he’s irritated. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose, gritting his teeth so hard his TMJ will be acting up tonight, and closing his eyes, sympathizing with himself about having to deal with stupid people. “You’re giving me a headache,” he says calmly.
“Well, you’re giving me a headache,” Ronin replies. “So just explain why the fuck we should care that Ashleigh’s sister is here. Is she the one behind the bike theft? Is she the one behind the sudden appearance of the new witness in the trial? Is she filing for adoption of your kid?”
“No, Ronin,” Ford says in his why are you on this team voice. “But she’s a wild card we can’t afford to discount. What if this bitch does something unpredictable?”
“As in what?” Ronin asks. “She’s gonna swoop in and save Ash from an out-of-gas car while we’re in the middle of the job? I’m not following.”
I have to bite back the cringe as Ford remains silent.
“OK, I’m back to surveillance. Spencer, you owe me for this. I am not recon for a reason.” The three quick beeps says the call has been ended on the other side.
“What’s he so fucking strung out about, Spence?” Ronin asks, turning to me. “It’s like he’s having a conversation with himself. I don’t get it. Is the new family compromising him or what?”
“I don’t think that’s it, Ronin. He’s just worried about Ashleigh doing this job. He doesn’t want her involved, but we’ve got no choice.”
“Yeah, well, this is the part I’m not getting. OK? It’s a pretty fucking simple job. Get dropped off in a taxi, fill up the tank with two gallons of gas. Start up the car. Wait for you and your crew to show up and distract everyone. Ford drives the bot out, Ash picks it up. She drives away. What am I missing?”
I wait a beat too long and Ronin is on to me. He starts shaking his head. “You better come clean, Spencer. I swear to God, if you two are keeping shit from me, I will flip the fuck out.”
“That’s not it,” I say calmly. “That’s not it at all. It’s just…” This is not a lying pause. Ronin taught me this pause. It’s an I don’t want to tell you the truth, but the truth is coming out anyway pause. “It’s just we’re not one hundred percent sure who all the players are.” And this is not a lie either. That’s the whole fucking reason we’re doing this job, right? To get the players lined up like soldiers.
Ronin’s brow furrows. He’s not buying it and like the inexperienced liar I am, I keep talking. “What if there’s someone else involved? What if Ashleigh’s sister is the one behind all this? What if all this has to do with Ford and not Rook? What if we’ve been targeting the wrong enemy?”
“You know something and you better fucking tell me right the hell now.”
“Ford thinks Ashleigh’s father is the one behind the stolen motorcycles.”
“But why?”
The fact that Ronin is still asking me for answers and not filling them in himself tells me he thinks I’m lying. I might not be the liar on the Team, but the liar has been one of my best friends for ten years. I know him. He knows me. We know Ford. And all of us can feel there’s something wrong with us right now.
“It’s a distraction, I guess.” I shrug my shoulders, but it’s lame and even I know it so I play my last card. “Ford never told you, and dude, I’m sorry for keeping it from you all this time, but Ashleigh’s family ties are big-time…” I search for the right word. “Big-time corporate mobsters, I guess. And the guy she was engaged to, Kate’s real father, that guy comes from the actual Italian mob. Not some low-life rank either. But like the fucking Godfather’s son.”
I wait for Ronin’s reaction but he rolls a hand at me to keep going.
“And the Godfather and Ashleigh’s father, Damian Li, they hate each other. They both do business in San Diego. Ashleigh left the US for college and met up with Tony, the Godfather’s son, in Japan. Tony joined the military, became a SEAL, and then got blown up on some mission. Stop me if you’ve heard this.”
I wait but Ronin is not amused because he has not heard this. Not one bit of it, and now that he realizes I have, he’s only gonna get angrier.
“Ashleigh went a little insane when the death of Tony and the birth of Kate pretty much occurred simultaneously, left Japan on this whacked-out road trip, and may or may not have tried to kill herself by falling asleep in a broken-down car during a blizzard. Ford unwittingly saved her, took her to LA thinking she just wanted to have words with the guy who left her hanging and pregnant in another country, not realizing Tony was dead, and then Ashleigh’s father came and forcibly took Kate, threatening to incarcerate Ashleigh in a psychiatric facility if she didn’t give the baby over to her sister to be adopted.”
“Shit. Holy fuck. Why didn’t Ford tell me?” Finally Ronin is processing.
“That’s not all, dude. Ford lied his way into Damian Li’s home, then married her on the spot using some legal loophole only California has, called a confidential marriage license. The woman who performed the ceremony is still hiding in Australia, that’s how terrified she is to face Li.”
“So,” Ronin says, finally ready to fill in the blanks. I do my best not to breathe a sigh of relief. “We’re not only dealing with corrupt FBI and politicians who think keeping girls as sex slaves is OK, but also a double-crossed corporate criminal, and maybe even a real-life mobster, both of whom are related to Ashleigh and Kate. Well, that’s fucking wonderful. And you guys didn’t think to tell me this earlier?”
I relax a little, because he’s playing along right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s on board. I’m dealing with our liar. And even though this was kept from Ronin and this is all one hundred percent true as far as I know, none of this shit is what Ford does not want Ronin to know. Or me, my nagging thoughts add, as if I needed anymore bullshit on my plate.
“Of course we thought of telling you, dickwad. But we figured you had enough on your plate with Rook’s problems. But now we’re second-guessing ourselves. Maybe Rook’s not the problem, maybe Ashleigh is.”
All of that was true. Every word of it. And Ronin knows this, so even if he’s still suspicious, he has to let it ride.
“What about the new witness for the trial?” he finally asks, after several seconds of silence. “How’s that play into it?”
I throw up my hands because I actually have no idea. “He’s just another witness. I mean, look, the defense has a team of very accomplished lawyers. Of course they can find a witness to substantiate their claims against Rook. It’s not that unusual. Right?”
“And Drake?”
“Ford found something when he was doing his computer thing back in his apartment. Drake, it turns out, is the illegitimate son of our friend the Boulder pedophile.”
“What?”
“Yeah, so shit’s starting to make sense, right?”
&
nbsp; He shakes his head at me, angry as all fuck. And I don’t blame him. If the tables were turned, I’d be raging. “Then why keep it from me, Spencer? That shit’s not cool. At all.”
“Rook,” I say as he stops his pacing and looks over to me. “Rook cannot know anything else. She’s a terrible witness, Ronin. Too much information is just as bad as too little.”
Ronin paces the room a few times. He looks over at me, then stops in front of the window and peeks through the blinds. There’s people outside again, but they are not in the parking lot today. I hired security to rope it off. They are out by the sidewalk with their signs. And really, who gives a fuck about some picketers at this point? We’ll deal with them if they come too close. Right now we’re dealing with two mobsters, the FBI, two teams of lawyers, three girls and a baby we’re trying to keep safe, and the possibility of the Team breaking up over these lies I’m telling.
Those people outside are not even on my radar.
I look back at Ronin and he’s not taking this too well. His eyes might be looking out the window, but his mind is a million miles away. His mind is on Rook.
Just like Ford’s mind is on Ashleigh and my mind is on Veronica.
We can’t do this anymore. We have way too much to lose. But that’s a talk for another day. Today, Ronin needs to just go along. That’s it. Just go along. So I start talking again. “She’s not even involved in this, Ronin. Rook is the babysitter, right? You’re gonna be with her the whole time. You’re gonna take a nice walk to church with the baby, sit inside for a little while. Talk to the peeps in there if they ask questions. Then get in the car I send and meet us out at the farm to regroup. Ashleigh is the one taking the risk. Ford is the one who needs to be worried, not you.”
He looks over at me and then opens my office door and walks out without another word.
I sit down in my chair and sigh.
This is it. This is the end. This Team is over. And as much as I want a normal life with Ronnie—I’m fucking sad at the thought of leaving my brothers behind.
And if I’m honest, I’m scared to leave them behind as well. We’ve been through a lot. We’ve stood up for one another through so much. I’ve known for many years, even back when we were fighting, if I needed anything, I could just call. But when you’ve got babies and women involved, that answer is no longer automatic.
Because we’ve all got new priorities now.
And as much as I want all this shit to be over so I can move on with Ronnie and have a normal life… I’m sad.
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Veronica
My morning goes by like that. I have the sorority girls and one regular today. I do butterflies and flowers, then work on the 3D robotic parts I’ve been tattooing on my regular’s arm for the better part of six months. Today is the last appointment, and I should be thrilled, because this shit is art. This tattoo will find its way into magazines, will be all over the internet the second the redness goes away, will win competitions if he decides to enter—it’s that awesome.
This tattoo will be famous for another reason. Because the arm it’s inked on belongs to a drummer for an up-and-coming Denver band. They had a single featured on iTunes last Christmas and they’re almost ready to put out their first full-length CD. And he wants to come back and have me do the other arm next month.
I told him yes. What could I say? No? I’m quitting? I’m a quitter?
I’m not a quitter, so I told him yes. I scheduled it for May, the day he comes back from a short small-venue tour in California.
But my mind is really not on tattoos right now. My mind is constantly wandering over to Rook. And Kate, and Ashleigh.
Because in two hours, I’m gonna be involved in something horrific.
I swallow that down, because even if it goes perfectly, even if I save Spencer’s ass by doing this, the second he finds out, he’s done with me. I’ll never be his friend again, let alone his girlfriend.
The phone in my pocket buzzes and I jump, dropping the machine I’m cleaning into the stainless steel sink in my room. Shit. I remove my nitrile gloves—I might be distracted enough to forgo the plastic on the chair and shit, but I do not fuck about with cleaning without some heavy rubber gloves. I lay them on the counter and turn the water off, then fish out my phone.
Twenty minutes. Do not be late.
Oh, God. My stomach is in knots.
“You OK?” I spin around and Carson is looking at me with a worried frown. “You look freaked out.”
“No, I just have a date with that guy again. So I need to go. Thanks a bunch for your help. I’ll probably be OK tomorrow. Vic and my dad will be here at two, so you don’t need to come in.” He’s about to protest, but I put a hand up. “Carson, believe me, you do not want to come in. All those clichés about dads, daughters, and shotguns… well. They’re cliché for a reason. Some fathers really do that shit and mine is one of them.”
He looks at me for a few seconds, but then he nods and drops it. “OK, then. Call me and we’ll go car-hunting. Spencer is still really adamant about you getting a safe car.”
This makes me smile. My Spencer. He cares about me. He wants me to drive safely. “OK, sure.” I say it but I don’t mean it, because after tonight, Spencer will want nothing to do with me.
I go back to cleaning my machine and getting it ready for the autoclave, and Carson takes the hint and lets himself out the front door. I throw the bagged parts of my machine into the sterilizer and then walk down the hall and lock the door, leaving the neon sign that’s flashing open to the outside world on. I parked in front tonight, but I’m not taking the bike home. I’m walking. It’s not even six o’clock, but it’ll be dark soon, so I grab my pack and hoof it out the back door.
The condo building on Mason is only about a mile away, so I take off at a jog. I glance over at Shrike Bikes as I make my way across Maple, but there’s nothing going on over there. Everyone is in position for that secret job they’re pulling tonight, I suppose. By the time I make it to the building I’m sweaty and out of breath. I have no key to get inside the security door, but I don’t need one. The place is unlocked.
I pull the door open and step in. My stomach sinks. Because it’s dark too. And deserted. Something is wrong.
Have I ever seen anyone besides me, Bobby, and the doorman here?
No. Never.
I swallow hard and go to the elevator, but when I push the button, it stays dark.
My phone buzzes again. Get in position now, Veronica, the text says. I look up at the camera domes and give a hesitant nod.
I pull the door to the stairs open and climb up to the second floor. I’m just about to pass the exit to my condo but my curiosity gets the better of me and I leave the stairwell and head to the closest apartment. When I turn the handle I expect the door to be locked—or maybe I hope the door is locked. But it’s not.
I open it and my suspicions are confirmed. No one lives in this building but Bobby Mansi and me. The condo is empty, the floors are unfinished concrete, there’s no kitchen, only the plumbing sticking out of the walls.
My phone buzzes again. I check the ceiling for cameras and pull the door closed as I exit and then make my way back in to the stairs and resume climbing. I don’t look at the text until I’m upstairs in front of the penthouse door.
Service terminated.
Wonderful. I hope to fuck this phone will still record, because I’m not gonna be part of this with no record to save my ass if it all goes wrong.
When I walk inside this time, I am stunned. Because everything is gone. Even the kitchen. Just bare concrete. And something tells me that if I went to my apartment downstairs, it would look the same way. I bet my real apartment has mysteriously been vacated of all asbestos workers and is one hundred percent normal as well.
Who has the money and resources to play this kind of game?
The insistent buzz of my phone jolts me out of my pondering. Later, Ronnie, I tell myself. But right now, I need to make sure Bobby Mansi comes out
of this alive. Bobby’s instructions were to hide. But what the fuck? He never said the place would be dismantled when I got here.
Think, think, think, Veronica. I walk over to the stairs that lead up to the rooftop deck and kick open a grate that covers the lower steps. A door slamming in the hallway near the elevator jolts me out of my stupor and I drop to the floor and wiggle into the small space.
I grab the screen and pull it in front of me. I can’t fasten it or anything, but here’s hoping that doesn’t matter because Bobby walks into the room with a tall blonde girl and a guy who looks exactly like him.
I aim the phone camera at them and press record.
“I saw her over there, Tet,” the new guys says to Bobby. The new guy pushes the gagged, bound, and blindfolded woman to the center of the room. She stumbles, but Bobby reaches out and grabs her arm before she can fall.
“Don’t, Cy.”
A few small whimpers escape past the woman’s gag, and this is enough to anger the new guy. Are they twins? No. Bobby looks older than this guy. But they definitely look like brothers, they are that alike. “She better shut the hell up or believe me, I’ll put this bitch down like a dog.”
He’s got a gun—the same gun I have, in fact, the FN Five-SeveN—and he pushes it under the woman’s chin. Bobby slaps the gun away and pushes the brother back. “I’m fucking warning you, Cy. Do not fuck with her.”
“This bitch has it coming and I swear to God, if this shit goes bad, she’ll be the first to get hit.”
“And you’ll be the second, brother, so use some of that control they spent all these years beating into you for once. It’s not her fault you’re in this position. It’s yours. So keep with the fucking plan and do not stray.”
The new guy is wearing all black. He looks like an assassin. Bobby said he was a soldier, but he’s still wearing a suit. He looks like a businessman.
The woman is about the same age as him, maybe mid-to-late twenties. She’s wearing a fancy dress and some brown leather boots. Only they don’t say fuck me, they say envy my credit card. Bobby leads her over to the fireplace, which has a ledge about knee-high as the hearth, and carefully urges her to sit without speaking. She’s got earbuds in her ears and the wire leads down to an MP3 player strapped to her arm like joggers wear. So she can’t see, talk, or hear. Bobby ties her feet together and then backs away.