by Huss, JA
“Ashleigh—”
“I almost killed myself! I was almost locked away in a psychiatric hospital, that’s how depressed I was after hearing you were dead. I was going to fall asleep in a parked car during a blizzard. I wanted to die.” She backs away again and then her eyes search wildly until she finds Ford. He’s out in the open still, in full view of everyone. Just standing there, like he’s got a great big bullseye on his chest. “Ford saved me,” she finally says.
“I’d do it again, Ashleigh,” Ford says. “I’d never walk away from you, Kitten. Ever. Not for any reason. Never. We’ll do it together or we won’t do it.”
She turns back to Tony. “I’m married,” she admits in a calm voice. “I’m married to my soul mate. I’m happy. I’m happy I’m alive and I’m happy with my life. I can’t walk away from Ford. I’m not walking away from Ford. I’m not coming back to you.”
Tony reaches out, a pained look on his face. And then in one swift move, he’s got Ashleigh by the throat. He pulls her next to his body and a shot rings out.
Veronica, of all fucking people, is shooting at Tony. She hits him in the back three times, but he’s got armor on. The shots jerk his body, but he stays standing. Ford rushes towards Ashleigh, and I cover him, shooting at Tony’s feet. Ford grabs Ashleigh’s arm and swings her out of the way. Tony points his gun at Ford’s head, and then Ronnie shoots again, and a distracted Tony pops off several shots in that general vicinity.
I’m aiming, but Tony makes one more mad grab for Ash and she’s back in his clutches. The gun goes to her head. “I’ll kill her, Aston! Stay the fuck back, or I’ll kill her!”
Ford drops the gun I gave him back at the garage, his hands in the air. “You don’t really want to hurt her, Tony. If you love her, you’ll let her go.”
For a second I think Ford’s soothing voice will work, but then Ashleigh’s sister is running towards her screaming. “No, you bast—”
Tony fires several times and the woman takes a shot to the chest. She drops to the ground and then Bobby Mansi comes out of nowhere, his gun pointed at Tony.
“I’ll kill her, Tet,” Tony says, pushing his gun into Ashleigh’s temple as she sobs, calling out to Ford. “I’ll fucking kill—”
One, two, three, four shots ring out and Tony’s head explodes, four times over.
Ashleigh wiggles free and makes a run for Ford. Bobby Mansi stands over the fallen Tony, emptying round after round after round into the dead man’s chest. When he’s out of bullets he drops the gun on the ground, looks over at me, and then says as calmly as you can, “Better call an ambulance.”
“I think he’s dead, man,” I say back.
“Not for him, Shrike. For her.” He points to a body near the stairwell and my whole world begins to spin.
Because my Ronnie is laid out on the ground in a pool of blood.
Chapter Thirty-Five - Spencer
Chaos.
That’s my world right now.
“Ronnie?” You’d think I’d be screaming it, but it’s a whisper. “Ronnie, baby?” I’m kneeling down next to her and my only thought is how pissed she’d be if she knew so much blood was covering her body.
“It’s a flesh wound, Spencer,” Ford says as he shakes me.
No. Oceans of blood do not pour out of a flesh wound. My hand goes to her arm where the blood is pulsing out in a river.
“She must’ve been shooting at him when it hit her. The cartridge nicked the brachial artery in her upper arm.” Ford pushes me out of the way and then grabs a belt being offered by Carson and loops it around her arm, up near her shoulder. He pulls it tight and Veronica lets out a moan.
“Ronnie?” But that’s all I get from her because at that moment—the moment when I realize this might be the last thing I ever hear from her mouth—my world goes silent.
I watch. I’m an observer as Carson talks on his phone. He’s hysterical. Rook and Ronin are trying to calm a screaming Kate. Ashleigh’s kneeling down over her sister, her tiny hands pushing against Amber’s lifeless chest as the blood seeps out and puddles up on the ground.
She’s dead.
Ashleigh and I come to this realization at the same time, and then she’s up on her feet, looking around wildly. Bobby Mansi walks forward calmly, she falls into his chest and they embrace. He hugs her hard, his hand wrapped around her head as Ashleigh sobs for her dead sister.
Sirens sound off in the distance.
I watch them like this until the embrace is broken by Bobby. He holds Ashleigh out at arm’s length and begins to talk. Her tear-filled eyes are locked with his as he takes her face in both his hands. His lips move as he talks, and Ashleigh’s head bobs up and down in agreement.
They both look over at Tony’s body, then to us. To Ford, who is still working on Veronica like he’s some kind of military field medic. He’s barking orders to Carson and then Ford presses a phone in my hand and I take it automatically. When I look down I realize it’s filming.
It’s Ronnie’s phone. Disconnected from service, but the camera still functions.
I look back to Ash, but she’s alone now.
Bobby Mansi is standing over Tony’s body. He drops another weapon on the ground that looks identical to the first, and walks calmly to the elevator, where he inserts a key and the doors open. He steps in and turns.
I catch his eye just as the doors close and he shoots me his finger.
But it doesn’t come with a wink.
Flashing red and blue lights take over from there. Carson is running towards the cops, yelling for them to bring an ambulance.
There are half a dozen cops surrounding me, yelling for me to drop my gun. I look down at it and my hands let go automatically. It clangs to the concrete and then the next thing I know Ronnie and I are on our way to the hospital. I sit in the ambulance, silent, stoic, as the medics work on my Bombshell.
They are shining a light in her eyes, lifting up her eyelids, calling her name.
She’s not responding.
I watch the lips of the medic at her head. Lost a lot of blood, they say.
The ambulance stops and I’m pushed out the doors. I can only watch as they maneuver the stretcher out of the back and wheel her into the ER. I try to follow but the cops are there again, they have me by the shoulders. And normally I’d fight back or protest or something. But I feel like I’m in another world right now.
“Ronnie,” I say softly as she disappears behind the ER doors.
I’m ushered to a police car in the parking lot, cuffed and put in the back. And none of this matters. The only thing that matters is Veronica.
I sit here for how long? I have no idea.
It feels like hours before I spot Ronin outside the car. Ford is here, too. Our team of lawyers. Scott comes over to my car and opens the door. “Come on, Spence,” he says softly.
“Don’t talk to me like that, Scott.” I finally find my voice. “Don’t talk to me like I need your sympathy.”
He helps me out of the car, uncuffs me, and then slips Ronnie’s phone into my palm and closes my hand around it. “We never saw this,” he says.
Ronin jogs over from the huddle of lawyers and grabs my shoulder. “She’s OK, Spencer. She’s in surgery. They have to repair that vessel. But she’s doing OK.”
I nod, still numb. Doing OK and OK are not the same thing.
All these years of trying to protect her mean exactly shit to me right now.
What a waste of life. What a fucking waste of life.
“Come on,” Ford says. “We can wait inside.” We all follow him and end up in a small waiting room on the second floor.
We sit in silence and it’s only then that I realize Ford and I both are covered in blood. Ronnie’s blood.
It’s past midnight before a doctor comes into the waiting room. “Who’s a family member here?” he asks.
“I am,” I say. “She’s my fiancée.”
“Mr.—”
“Shrike. Spencer Shrike.” I can barely meet h
is eyes. I’m terrified of what they’ll tell me.
“She’s stable, Mr. Shrike. She came in with a tear to the brachial artery—”
I stop listening and sit back down, my head in my hands, wanting so badly to cry with relief. I replay those words over and over in my head. She’s stable. It keeps me from falling apart. It becomes my mantra. The only thought I’m capable of.
Ford takes over, asking questions using words I’ve never heard before. When the doctor leaves, he sits down next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “She’s OK, Spence.”
I can’t look at him. I’m so fucking messed up, I can’t look at anyone.
“There’s no nerve damage that they can see so far, the repair went better than expected, and she’s being moved to a room right now. You can go see her in a few minutes.”
Ronin sits on the other side of me and puts his hand on my shoulder too. “The trial is off,” he says.
“What?” I look up at him.
“Yeah, that’s why they cuffed you and we had to call the lawyers. Apparently Agent Abelli is dead. They suspect poisoning, but they won’t know for sure until they get the toxicology back.”
I want to laugh but it’s not funny. I want to feel relieved. Ashleigh belongs to Ford, Tony really is dead now. Veronica was shot, but she’ll be OK. And Rook won’t have to testify next week.
We’re saved.
But if this is victory… I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.
“It’s over,” Ford says, like he’s reading my mind. We’ve been friends for eighteen years. I’ve done everything with this guy. He’s saved my ass so many times. But today… he saved Ronnie. A few more minutes and she would’ve bled to death.
“I owe you, man,” I tell him as he gets up and goes over to the dark window. Just contemplating for a few moments before looking back at me.
We stare at each other for a few seconds and then he smiles.
“No, Spencer. We’re even. It’s over now. Veronica will be fine. Rook will not have to testify. And Ashleigh and Kate are mine. All three threats neutralized.”
Ronin and I look at each other and I know him well enough to read his mind, just as Ford read mine.
Did Ford plan this? we ask each other.
But Ford turns away and just stares out the window. “Ashleigh peed on the stick earlier while she was waiting to play her part.”
We wait for more information but when he turns back to face us, his triumphant smile tells us all we need to know.
Chapter Thirty-Six - Merc
I’m checking out the coffee shop in the historic section of downtown Cheyenne when the call comes in. I answer it through the cigarette in my teeth. “You’re late, asshole. Report. I got a recon job going.” Tet huffs, a response that tells me he’s just as annoyed at having to report in to me, as I am that he’s late about doing it. “Job ended last night, so shut the fuck up and report.”
“You know he’s dead. I already filed my report with the boss.” He lets out a long breath of air and now I realize he’s smoking. Tet’s a reformed smoker—this is a tell for him. He’s stressed. But hey, if I killed my brother yesterday, I’d be smoking something a lot stronger than a cigarette, that’s for damn sure. “So we’re even now. Call it, Merc. This job is over and my debt to you is cleared. Your buddy got his girl and my backup got the trial canceled. As far as I can tell, you probably owe me a favor now.”
I click my tongue, ready to talk some shit. But then the girl comes out of the bar across the street. “My target’s here. So I’m gonna make this quick. Ford was not happy. At all. No one authorized you to hire a partner. And sure as fuck no one authorized you to hire Spencer Shrike’s fucking girlfriend.”
He exhales more cigarette smoke and laughs. “She swore up and fucking down they were not together. I even asked him, repeatedly, if they were together. He never said a word. So as far as I’m concerned, Veronica was fair game. She was qualified and willing. End of story. It’s Shrike’s problem for keeping their relationship secret. And Ford’s problem for wanting the hit in the first place. Besides, she lived.”
I consider my next move, letting him stew a second. Tet was born into this organization. He’s been in it from the beginning, but from what I can tell, he’s about ready to check out as well. The only question is—will he do it the easy way and let himself be killed off like his brother? Or will he do it the hard way and fight his way to the top, taking the whole thing down as he climbs?
My bet’s on number one.
“Well, I’m tired,” he says, almost answering my question. “They’re sending me to the beach. To relax.” He laughs loudly at this and even I smile. “For some downtime, see if I’m salvageable with a few weeks of rest.”
“Huh. Well, they wanted Tony dead too, so what’s their problem?”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. That’s too long in this business when everything we do is based on quick reflexes.
“I lost someone when I took him down.”
“Yeah.” He sure the fuck did. Amber Li-Montgomery. I don’t know Ford’s father-in-law, but I’m the one who did all the digging when Ford was plotting to steal Ashleigh out of his house. So I know how upset Li probably is right now that his golden daughter was gunned down by the son of a ruthless enemy. “Li’s gonna be pissed.”
“Fuck Li,” Tet says. “I loved Amber, Merc. I left her behind so she’d be safe. Her husband was my number one bodyguard. He’s been looking after her for years. Until fucking Tony showed up.” He hesitates, and then exhales some more smoke. He’s really puffing tonight. “I failed my last psych exam.”
Well, that’s my cue. “My mark’s leaving, gotta run.” I end the call and toss the phone on the seat next to me as I watch the girl hanging on her piece-of-shit boyfriend outside the bar. I’m not interested in Tet’s state of mind. Not one bit. You gotta be crazy to do a job like this. And I’ve never pretended to be sane, but I’m really not in the mood to be reminded of it at the moment.
Because if I had just fucked up a job, caused the death of a major crime boss’ daughter, got a civilian shot, and then used my get-out-of-jail-free card to poison a former FBI agent while he was sitting in jail waiting for trial, leaving sloppy clues all over the fucking place? Clues that practically scream, ‘Yo, it’s Tet. I’m killing people here.’ And they wanted to test me? Evaluate my mental stability?
Yeah, I’d sure as fuck fail that shit too.
I let out a breath and try to forget about Tet. He’s a big boy, not my problem.
I only have one thing on my mind. It’s not Ford’s hit. A hit I owed him because of that job I fucked up last Christmas.
And it’s not Tet clearing my debt with Ford by killing Tony.
It’s this fucking girl across the street.
Because her father owes me big.
And I’m here to collect.
Epilogue - Spencer
Seven Months Later
It’s a beautiful October day. Well, for a few hours it is. Colorado likes to play with the temperature quite a bit, but sometimes we get lucky and get a seventy-five-degree afternoon that comes out of nowhere.
I take full advantage of this day, lying in my hammock under the buckeye tree behind the shop. What used to be the shop. I tore it down and built a new garage attached to the house so Ronnie doesn’t have to park her minivan outside. Besides, that shop was blocking the view of the tree from the house. And now we can see it and the river from the living room.
The screen door slaps closed and I turn my head to watch Ronnie walk across the grass to where I’m at. She’s waddling these days. Her belly is already big and round even though she’s only five months along.
She smiles at me as she approaches, and then sits her ass down next to mine and lies back with me. We sway a little and I wrap my arms around her. “You love me for my hammock, don’t you.”
She giggles.
I reach down to the ground and pick up a buckeye and hand it to her.
“And your bucke
yes,” she says back.
“What should we eat tonight?” I ask her as I kiss her on the head and slip my hand underneath her maternity shirt to rub her belly.
“Hmmmm. Probably hospital food.”
“What?”
“Rook called,” she says as she turns her head to see me. “Ashleigh’s in labor.”
I sit up and scoop her up in my arms. “Holy shit!”
“Calm down, caveman. You’re as bad as Ford. They just left for the hospital, these things typically take a long time.”
I ignore every word as I carry her to the house. “Ford has got to be crazy. He needs support.” I set her down when I get to the porch steps and smack her ass. “Get ready, Bomb. We gotta go.”
She walks off towards the stairs to change or whatever she’s gotta do to be ready to meet Ford’s new baby. I’m new to all this shit, but I love the fact that Ford’s gotta be the guinea pig. Every fuckup he makes, I take notes. Then I avoid that shit at all costs.
Like that dumbass told Ashleigh she should try natural childbirth. Yeah, he had to sleep on our couch for three nights.
I immediately asked Ronnie how soon she could get the drugs to make the process easier for her. She gave me a man massage that night.
I proposed to Ronnie in the hospital while she was still groggy from the drugs they used to surgically repair her artery. Twice my Bombshell was shot at because of me. Twice she lived.
I’m done. I told Ford and Ronin we’re all done. And they had no complaints. We need to quit while we’re ahead, and ahead simply means we’re all still alive.
That’s a win-win-win for everyone.
Ronin proposed to Rook last month at the party Antoine threw for her twenty-first birthday. They moved back to Denver as soon as Shrike Bikes season two filming ended. Ronin is the marketing manager for Chaput Studios and Rook is making a documentary on the inside lives of erotic models. We got picked up for a third season, but Rook says she’s done with the reality show stuff.