by JA Huss
The guilt or innocence of Agent Abelli—and us too, since our stories are all wrapped up in each other now—hangs on the words of Rook Corvus and the hacking skills of Ford Aston.
And doesn’t that make the both of them very attractive targets?
Ronin’s truck pulls up in front of the cinema and Rook leans over and kisses him before getting out and walking inside where the girls meet every morning to have coffee. That must’ve been one hell of a quickie because it’s only been about twenty minutes. Ronin backs up and makes the two-second trip across the street.
A few seconds later Ford pulls up to the cinema in the Bronco. He has to get out because Ashleigh has so much baby shit it takes two people to sort it out. Ford gets the stroller and then grabs Kate and puts her inside, while Ashleigh gets the dogs.
I have to shake my head at that. Why she puts up with his crazy dogs is beyond me. But I get why Ford does it. Those dogs give him peace of mind.
Me? I prefer guns.
Ford finishes up and then kisses his new wife goodbye on the lips and backs out. When I see them together, he’s like a different person. Ashleigh and Kate make him different. Nicer, I guess. Because when he’s with us alone, he’s the same old asshole he’s always been.
Ronin comes into my office and I turn around.
“Spying on Ron?” he asks as he grabs a bike magazine and plops down on the couch.
“Ford, actually,” I reply back. “He just dropped Ash and Kate off.”
The door opens again and Ford walks in, closes it behind him, and then just stands there looking between Ronin and I.
“What?” I ask, feeling nervous.
“Someone has contested my request to adopt Kate.”
“Who?” Ronin and I ask together.
Ford takes a deep breath and exhales out the words. “Kate’s father.”
Chapter Fourteen
VERONICA
“I don’t get it,” Rook says, confused. I take a sip of my coffee and wait patiently for Ashleigh to position Kate for nursing. Ashleigh looks a wreck. Her eyes are all red from crying and all the color has disappeared from her face. “I mean, how does a dead man contest an adoption?”
Ashleigh starts to cry silently.
Rook and I look at each other and she mouths, Do something. Like I’m good with this girlfriend stuff.
I’m not. I was raised by a pack of wild men. I had very few girlfriends growing up. In fact, I think Rook is the only girl I’ve ever been really close to. But Rook’s the baby, so I take over. “Ashleigh, he is dead, right?” Rook’s eyes go wide and she shakes her head no. I ignore her. If there’s some sort of protocol for dealing with dead ex-boyfriends who contest adoptions by live husbands, I’m not up to speed. “I mean, he didn’t, like, show up in person, right?”
“No,” she says, sniffling. “It was a legal document served to me today. It came from a law office. Tony—that’s Kate’s biological father—Tony’s name is not even on there. It says something like paternal objection. But that’s not possible. He’s dead.”
“Where’s the papers?” I ask as Rook reaches over to rub Ashleigh’s hand.
“Ford took them. He’s calling the lawyers who are handling the case for us.”
“What does he say?” Rook asks.
“He didn’t say anything, really. Just that he’ll take care of it.”
“Well,” I sigh. “I’m sorry this is happening. But if Ford Aston says he’s gonna take care of it, I’d try not to think about it too much. If it can be done, he’ll do it.”
“Besides,” Rook adds, “it’s probably Tony’s family who’s putting up this fight. They think they have a claim, I suppose. Have you talked to them?”
Ash shakes her head no as she wipes the tears from her eyes. “No, they said they never wanted anything to do with me. They sent me nasty letters when I was in Japan after I found out Tony died. And now they go and pull this shit? I’ve been feeling so much better about things the past few weeks. I’m moving on, ya know? And then this happens and I’m right back where I was with the grief. I hate when people fuck with my life. I hate it so much. I didn’t do anything, why can’t they just leave me alone?”
Rook leans in and hugs her. “Ronnie’s right. Ford will handle it. Ford always gets his way. They won’t stop the adoption. He’ll make sure of it. In fact, let’s just go over there right now and see if he’s found anything out.”
“No,” Ashleigh says quickly. “He’s so upset, I can’t see him right now. God, it’s bad enough he had to put up with me and my sadness for the past two months, but this? It’s like a slap in the face. He’s been taking care of Kate like she’s his own child since she was four months old and we finally get home to file the papers, and this happens. I swear to God, if I find out this is Tony’s parents doing this to try to get a hold of Kate, I will lose my shit.”
“Well,” I say more to myself than anything, “if I were you, I’d call their asses up and ask them what the fuck? Ya know? Put them on the spot. Make them come clean and say what they want. Maybe they just want to make sure they get visitation or something? And then you guys can sort it out in like ten minutes and put it behind you.” Both Rook and Ash are staring at me. “What? That’s what rational people do. People like Ronin, Spencer, and Ford do the complicated shit. Who needs complicated when you have easy. I mean—”
“No,” Ash says. “You’re totally right, Veronica. That’s brilliant.” She perks up at my idea, but Rook is frowning.
“What?” I ask her.
“Ash, if Ford says he’ll handle it, then you should just let him handle it.”
“Why?” I blurt. “Are you so brainwashed by Ronin that you can’t imagine picking up a phone and asking a simple question? I mean, come on, Rook. Not everything is a conspiracy.”
Ashleigh is looking at me as these words come out, but she glances quickly over to Rook and her whole attitude changes. “Yeah, you’re right. Ford can deal with it, I guess. Let him call them up and ask what the fuck.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me? Ashleigh, seriously. It’s a phone call. Rook, stop messing with her.”
“Ronnie, there’s things going on that you don’t know about, OK? It’s better to hand this off to Ford and the guys and let them figure it out. I’m sure Ford is hacking into some secret database getting information as we speak.”
“So you’re saying you two are part of the Team, but me, I’m not. So I can’t possibly understand how complicated it could be to just call up people she already knows and ask them what the fuck they want with her kid? Is that about right?”
“What if it’s not them, Veronica? What if it’s some sort of trap?”
“What fucking trap? Why would anyone be using this stupid adoption to trap Ashleigh?”
Rook sighs, but she stays silent.
Ashleigh won’t meet my gaze.
“Oh, yeah, OK. Once again, you two are in on the secrets but I’m not. You two are with the guys, and I’m not.”
“That’s not—”
Rook is interrupted by Ford and Ronin as they enter the cinema and walk over to us. “Come on, ladies,” Ford says. “We’re taking you home.”
“Rook,” Ronin adds, “you’re staying with Ashleigh today until we take care of some business.”
Ford gathers up Kate and calls the dogs to heel, while Ash frantically stuffs her things into the stroller. A few seconds later they walk out to the waiting Shrike truck out front. I look through the window and see Spencer at the wheel, but he’s got his shades on, so I can’t tell if he’s watching me or not.
“Later, Ronnie,” Rook calls out as Ronin urges her to hurry. “I’ll see you later.”
And then I watch them all pile into the truck and take off.
I look around after they’re gone and everyone is staring at me. “What the fuck are you all looking at?” I slap a tip down on the table, grab my backpack, and walk out the door. The Shrike truck is stopped at the light at the corner and I can see the
m all talking inside the cab.
Then the light turns green and they turn and disappear.
Well, that’s fucking awesome. I swing my leg over my bike and start her up. Fuck them. Just fuck them. I back out and head the other direction on College. A few seconds later I pull into a spot in front of Sick Boyz and turn off the engine.
I sit here for a few seconds thinking about how shitty I feel. They seriously just left me sitting there like some worthless garbage.
And that’s two times in two days that I feel like worthless garbage.
And then I see him.
Bobby Mansi. He’s coming out of the hardware store a few doors down, tossing his keys a little, like he hasn’t got a care in the world. I bet he doesn’t, rich bastard.
He turns his head and I look away real fast, pretending to mess with my bike before slipping my helmet off. When I look up again, he’s standing right next to me.
“Miss Vaughn. I didn’t see you this morning. How did you sleep?”
“Great actually. The couch was very nice.” I wince internally at that stupid remark.
“The couch, huh? Well, I’m glad to hear it.” He points up to the shop sign. “Is this where you draw lines on skin? Sick Boyz, Inc.?”
I look up at the old sign. It’s been there since the sixties. We’ve had it repainted many times, but it’s looking a bit weathered right now. And maybe for the first time ever, I feel ashamed that I work here. It’s true I’ve never enjoyed it. Much, anyway. The blood, it really bothers me. But I’ve always been proud of what I do. I’m talented. I have clients come from all over the country to see me. Maybe we don’t have our own TV show, but we’re a good shop. I’ve always been proud of my family’s strange talent.
But now, sitting here on a ridiculous motorcycle, all dressed up in yesterday’s rebellious biker clothes. I feel… stupid. And small. And pathetic. Used-up, good-for-nothing trash. I don’t answer Bobby. Obviously that question was rhetorical—I’m a tattoo artist and I’m sitting in front of a tattoo shop. This is where I work.
I grab my stuff, fish my keys out of my backpack, and get up to go open the front door. When I get inside I flip the sign from closed to open and break for the hallway that leads to the tattoo chairs. Bobby Mansi follows me.
I walk to the back of the building where we have a little break room. It’s got a TV, a table that seats eight, and a small kitchenette on one side. On the other wall there’s lockers. I dial the combination on mine and open it up. I grab my phone from my backpack and stuff it in my pocket, then shove the bag in the locker and slam the door closed.
Bobby Mansi is waiting for me in the doorway, his hands propped up on either side of the door jamb. “Sorry,” I say as I duck under one arm and walk back to my tattoo room. “I’m not very good company right now. I’m here alone for the next few days and I have a client due in about thirty minutes, so I need to get things running.”
I glance at him when I turn into my room. He’s still in the door, but he’s looking at me over his shoulder. “Something wrong, Veronica?”
I sigh as I look at him. God, this man is bordering on beautiful. I don’t normally like the beautiful ones. Ford is sorta beautiful in his scary weird way, and his brand of handsome has never appealed to me. But Bobby Mansi. He’s a definite maybe.
“Not exactly, no.” I reply. “I’m just…” I have no idea what I’m feeling. All bad things. All things I’d rather not share with a handsome stranger.
“You’re just… sorry you turned me down for dinner last night, aren’t you?”
I laugh a little at his cleverness and look him over properly. He’s grinning at me and his green eyes even have a little mischievous twinkle in them. “I didn’t exactly turn you down, remember? I told you I have to work until eleven, so dinner is just not possible.”
“Why do you have to work until eleven? Do you have appointments all night?”
“No, but we get walk-ins.”
“But you own this place, correct?”
“Yeah. Well—it’s family-owned.”
“So close early. Close early and come have a nice dinner with me.”
I sigh again. If only it was that easy. But then, he lives a comfortable life. He probably has no idea the struggles we have as a business. But I don’t really know how to explain this to a guy who owns entire buildings, so I use an easy excuse. “I have no nice dinner clothes because my apartment was condemned. I don’t even have time to go find some.”
“We’ll stay in. Have a nice dinner at my place. Wear what you have on, I have no complaints.”
My stomach does a few flips at his suggestive tone. I feel a little guilty for even considering his offer, but then again… all my best friends did just leave me sitting in the coffee shop like I’m nobody. I mean, seriously—it’s obvious that Ronin and Ford were worried about Rook and Ash. But me? No. Spencer could give two fucks about me. All he wants is the idea of me.
Why should I deny myself a nice dinner in the company of a good-looking man?
“OK,” I finally say. “OK, I’ll come. But I can’t close too early, we need the walk-in business. Nine, maybe. Is that too late?”
“I’ll be back at nine to escort you home.” And then he flashes me one more smile and walks back down the hallway. The bell jingles his exit and I let out a breath.
Calm, Veronica. Be calm.
But I can’t be calm, because I just accepted a date with Bobby Mansi. And even though I did go out with Carson a couple months ago, it’s not even remotely the same.
Carson is not my type. My type has always been Spencer. Even before I knew Spencer, my type was Spencer. And Bobby is not really my type either. I’ve never been into the rich guys. I don’t know how much money Spencer has—more than me, but that’s not saying much. He seems comfortable. I’ve never heard him complain about money, so I’m sure he’s not sweating the downtown FoCo rent every month like we do to keep our shop running. But he comes off as a working guy. I like the blue-collar guys. They’re very hot. That’s my type. Working men.
But maybe it’s time to explore new things.
Maybe it’s time to let Spencer go. Maybe I’ve been holding onto this dream of being with him because that’s all I’ve known for the past few years. Because we did so many cool and intimate things together and it was hard for me to accept that all that fun was over.
But just because I always do what I’ve always done doesn’t mean I have to keep living life that way.
Yeah. I feel better already. I’m turning over a new leaf. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I’m gonna reinvent myself.
So goodbye Spencer and hello Bobby.
Chapter Fifteen
SPENCER
I drop the girls and Ronin off at Ford’s place, then Ford and I exchange my Shrike truck for the unmarked van we use to transport bikes. The same van we drove back to Chicago to save Rook last summer. We drive in complete silence across town to the apartment Ford has been renting since season one. He keeps some sensitive stuff over there.
As do I.
I glance over at him as we drive down College Avenue. Fort Collins is pretty spread out for being a small town. And it’s not close to the freeway, the town itself is a good fifteen-minute drive west of the freeway, and since Ford’s secret place is about as southeast as you can get and still be considered Fort Collins, it’s a nice thirty-minute drive in lunch-hour traffic.
His fingers are flying over the laptop keys. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but ever since he came back from dropping Ashleigh off at the cinema, he’s been eerily silent. Just tapping away on the one thing that keeps him totally sane. Access to information no one else has.
Ford has never filled Ronin and me in on what happened with Ashleigh and her baby, but he told Rook. She told Ronin, and Ronin told me. If Ford wanted it kept a secret, believe me, his mouth would’ve stayed shut. But he told Rook, and that means it’s considered Team knowledge.
This whole mess is getting more and m
ore complicated by the day.
“You finding anything helpful on there, Ford?”
“Lots,” he huffs back. “But I need access to get answers.”
He continues his typing and I give up on the conversation as I turn into his apartment complex. I head over to his building and park in an empty spot I know belongs to him. As soon as I put the van in park, he’s out. I jump out after him and follow him up the stairs to the third floor, then walk through once he unlocks the door and enters.
The apartment is very generic. Just some basic furniture—couch, chair, lamps, tables—and that’s pretty much it.
Ford heads straight to the bedroom where he hides the hard drive that holds his hacking scripts and I head straight to the one that holds what I came for.
The guns.
I have almost fifty of them here and this makes me happy in the same way bike sex with Veronica does. All the rifles and shotguns are propped up against two walls, lined up like good little soldiers. After that Boulder job went FUBAR I told myself I was done with the guns. I meant it too. I was done. But luckily it took me about five minutes to come back to my senses. You need three things to pull off the shit we used to do.
Access to information. We got that with Ford.
A tight-as-fuck alibi. We pull that off with Ronin.
And security. That’s me. When we’re on a job I’m the lookout with Ronin. And I protect us at all costs.
I do that last part with guns.
Guns are the only real equalizer when you’re up against criminals as big as the ones we were fucking with in the past.
Ford was appalled when I started unloading all the guns last year. Especially after I killed our target. But that’s precisely why I have so many guns.
The Boulder Mistake, as we call it now, was a life-changing event. Killing someone is not something I take lightly. I’m not an angry, violent man. I don’t fight much, only when provoked or when Ronnie’s brother gets on my ass too hard. I’ve tussled with Ford and Ronin a few times, of course. But that’s just what guys do.
I played football in high school, I can take a beating. I’m not afraid to fight. I have no problem pummeling the shit out of people. But it’s not a habit I’ve developed. I’m pretty easy-going most days. And if I could go back and talk to my twenty-year-old self and tell him he’ll be killing someone in the very near future, I’m pretty sure my twenty-year-old self would laugh his ass off.