GUNS: The Spencer Book

by JA Huss

  I have to stop everything I’m doing so I can privately gloat about that.

  I want to see that show. I’m suddenly excited. Life is good. My man loves me. He loves me so much, he told me to date someone else. He sent that someone else over to my shop to help me out since I was here all alone.

  Carson walks into my room with the clipboard. “OK, fifteen girls. They all want a two-inch butterfly flower thing that looks kinda like this?” He points to a rough drawing on the clipboard paper. “Can you just whip up something like that and put Kappa Gamma Gamma underneath or… wherever. They said they want something a little customized, each one a little different, but the same sort of butterfly and the same lettering. So how much per tattoo?”

  “Well, that’s probably a forty-minute tattoo, but I don’t want to rush it, so let’s call it an hour and a hundred bucks, discounted to seventy-five for the group rate. I can do five today, the others will have to come back.”

  Carson nods his head as I ramble on, taking notes. Then he goes back out front and sends the first girl back. I don’t get a lot of walk-ins most of the time, and hardly any of them are girls. Most of the girls go to the twins, so it’s a nice change from my regulars. After we discuss the particulars of her design, she chats endlessly with me. And even though I don’t point it out, she squeals when the Biker Channel runs the Shrike promo. She informs me that she saw Spencer Shrike standing in line at Big City Burrito. And she is excited about that.

  I smile. He’s very exciting, so I let it pass and don’t even have a moment of jealousy.

  The next girl is more nervous and wants a smaller version of the last girl’s tattoo. I adjust, as I always do, and give her exactly what she wants.

  As much as I complain about this job, I do sorta love it once I get going. I like making art on people. The blood still makes me sick, but today, even that is muted.

  This girl doesn’t talk like the last one, and she’s not even remotely interested in the Biker Channel, so every now and then, between the buzzing of my gun, I hear Carson out front. Chatting people up and quoting prices and hours. The bells on the door never stop jingling.

  I finish this girl and have time to move on to the next before my regular appointment comes in.

  My day is a blur of excitement. Almost an adrenaline high, like it used to be back when I first started working here my senior year of college. Back when my days with Spencer were always special, always ended with a fuck, a kiss, and the promise of more to come tomorrow.

  God, I want to be that girl again. Back when the blood was just annoying. Back when sex was constant and wild. Back to the beginning.

  I want to start over.

  I need to start over.

  Chapter Seventeen

  SPENCER

  Ford is eerily silent as I make our way back towards town from his secret apartment. I catch him blankly staring out the window several times. “You OK, dude?” I finally ask as we get back to College Avenue.

  He doesn’t answer. And he doesn’t look OK, either.

  When he called and told us he met a girl on the road to LA and was gonna ask her to marry him, we all thought he was crazy. Even Rook. Her, Ronin, and I sat down at my house and thoroughly talked out what it meant if Ford brought home a wife. Because regardless of what we thought about it, no matter how crazy he sounded on that phone that day, if Ford married Ash, then Ash was in. There’s just no two ways about it. We discussed what she should know and when she should know it, and then we called up Ford and laid it all out for him.

  Not that he needed our permission, but you know—the girl comes with her own set of problems. We needed to know what we were getting into if he made her part of the Team.

  He told me about her family, but he left Rook and Ronin out of it. Ford has never seen Ronin as a friend. They’ve never been close and Ford’s attachment to Rook does not transfer to Ronin.

  Yeah, Ronin is part of the Team. But that’s where it ends for Ford. He’s not a sharing kind of guy on his best days with me, so he’s never liked the fact that Ronin got to know shit about him by default.

  Ashleigh’s family has their own team going, it seems. Only on a much bigger, bazillion-dollar semi-illegal pharmaceutical business scale.

  That sorta changes things. I mean, we’ve got a scam going here. We’ve fucked up a lot of people over the past few years. A lot meaning hundreds. Hundreds of important people are probably wishing they could find some way for all of us to disappear.

  So it matters that Ashleigh comes from a crime family. It matters that little Kate has crime on both biological sides, and now her step-side too. Because people like them—people like us—we have long memories. We are a patient bunch. We never forget a favor or a betrayal.

  And the only thing that became crystal clear since talking this out with Ford a couple months ago was this—we are small-time compared to the groups we’re up against.

  Teeny, tiny, minuscule time.

  “Ford,” I try again. “Look, man, I understand this shit’s upsetting, but I need words, OK? I need to know what I’m supposed to do about this. If this is a huge problem, I need to know. We all need to know.” He looks over at me, I catch it out of the corner of my eye, so I meet his gaze. “What? You’re fucking killing me, dude.”

  “I know something.”

  “OK.”

  He’s silent again after that.

  “You care to enlighten me?”

  “I don’t want Ronin to know. I need him to stay out of it.”

  “Ford—”

  “And Ashleigh. I don’t want her to know either. I’m just saying, I’ve done something and I don’t want them to know.”

  “But you’re gonna tell me?”

  “No,” he says. “I just need to get that off my chest. Just in case.”

  “You’re… involved in something?”

  “Not exactly. But I know something. Something big. Something I probably should’ve shared, but kept to myself.”

  “And it’s part of all this shit that’s happening?”

  “Possibly. I can’t be certain. So I can’t say anything, just trust me.”

  “Do you need me to do anything?”

  “No, I just need someone to know—” He stops and looks over at me. “Just in case something goes wrong.”

  “Goddammit, Ford. We can’t work like this. We—”

  “Exactly,” he interrupts. “We can’t work like this at all anymore. Don’t you see? We’ve got to stop this, Spencer. I can’t be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, wondering when someone’s gonna come back to fuck up my family. I need this shit to be over just as much as you do. Just as much as Rook and Ronin do. We need to stop.”

  “Well, this isn’t the time to fucking stop, asshole. So I need to know what the hell is going on. I’m not gonna lie to Ronin. We need him.”

  Ford sits in silence, typing on his computer, and I swear to God, if I wasn’t driving I’d smash that damn thing.

  “Pull over.”

  “What?”

  He waves his hand at the upcoming street. “Just pull over there. I need to show you something.”

  I turn off into a residential side street and pull over to the side of the road. Ford hands me his laptop and I take it automatically. “What’s this?”

  “Just read it.”

  I scan the page for a second. “What the fuck?” There’s a picture of Drake Cikes. But that’s not what makes my heart skip a beat.

  It’s the guy standing next to him. Davis Cooperson Smyth. Otherwise known as the Boulder asshole I murdered.

  “What the fuck is this?”

  “Drake. He’s the illegitimate love child of one of Cooperson Smyth’s sex slaves. His only son. Stood to inherit the entire estate. Until…”

  It starts to make sense now. “Until we stole it.”

  “Exactly. He’s got a motive, but not the skills, Spencer. So he’s not the only one.”

  “Where’d you find this?” I ask, looking up at h
im.

  “I used a virus—”

  “Fucking Ford! What the fuck? You’re gonna get us busted!”

  “Relax, I was careful. I had help from a friend.”

  “Who? Because if we’ve got someone else who knows our business, we truly are fucked.”

  Ford squints his eyes and gives me a sly grin. “This guy has always known our business. I just never told you before. You think hacking into high-level databases is a solitary effort, Spencer?” He waits for an answer but I have no idea. “Well, it’s not. Merc has had my back since high school. So he’s cool. And besides, you do not want to know what that guy does for a living.”

  “So we’re keeping this from Ronin? Why?”

  “Just for now, OK?” He stops to see how much of a fight I’ll put up. But seriously, if Ford’s got some secret plan in motion, I have no choice but to go along. “If he starts pressing you for answers or you fuck up and let on that he’s not as well-informed as he used to be—then feed him this info. Tell him about Drake and Ashleigh’s past. That’s our cover.”

  “We should not need to cover from Ronin,” I huff.

  “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 F
ord’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 ourselves 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.