GUNS: The Spencer Book

by JA Huss

  “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 si
de 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.

  “Camera crew was here too,” Ryan adds to deepen the blow. “Scott is useful as a townie cop, he ran them off. But they’re not far. He called me a little while ago and said they regrouped at the courthouse.”

  I put up my hand and walk away. The place is deathly silent, the only sound the echo of my boots across the polished concrete floors. Everyone is staring at me as I pass. Fletch and Griff. Larry. Two camera crews. I swallow hard and walk into my office, closing the door and flipping the blinds on the window so no one can see me.

  I sit in my chair. This executive fucking leather chair that screams success.

  And I swear to God, the only thing I want right now is one more carefree summer day with Ronnie.

  Two years ago

  Her tan is almost as golden as her hair as she lies face down on the beach, the midday sun blazing down on her perfect body. She’s topless, but that’s OK. This beach is private. The look on her face… I chuckle to myself as I walk towards her with a couple of ice-cold beers in my hands.

  “How can you afford this?” she asks, looking around with wide eyes.

  “I got a deal,” I say back.

  And I guess I did. This island was reserved last year before my team and I were busted for murder. We were spending some of the money we stole. Not a lot. But enough to reserve this island for Ronin and I to celebrate our graduation.

  Of course, all that other shit went down and yeah, I haven’t even talked to Ronin in over a year. But I’m the one who made the reservation, the money came from my account. My Bombshell has never been to the Florida Keys, so here we are.

  I drip cold water from the beer bottle on Ronnie’s back and she jumps, turns, flashes me her giant tits, and then turns over on her back and reaches for the beer. She lifts her head just enough to take a sip and then burrows the bottle into the sand and relaxes back again.

  “Happy?” I ask.

  “So, so happy,” she replies, her eyes closed.

  “You love me for my beach access, don’t you?”

  She wiggles a little in the sand, smiling and blushing. This is a game we play. You love me for…

  “I love you for your big cock.”

  I bust out laughing. “You love me for my bikes, don’t you?”

  “I love you for your talented tongue on my pussy.”

  I shake my head this time. “You love me for my farmhouse, and my redneck trucks, and my beat-up barn, don’t you?”

  She sits up this time and I reach for her tits.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she purrs.

  I pull her into my lap and lift her breast to my mouth and suck. “Yes,” she says again. “The farmhouse, the dirty-ass barn, the redneck trucks, your tongue, your big cock, your perfectly muscled Greek-god body, your money, your tattoos—even though I’m the one who did them—your brain, your business sense, your bikes…” She pauses to laugh. “And the way you fuck me with paint every now and then.”

  I release her nipple from my mouth and go to work on her lips. They are soft and lush. Plump, even. I bite the lower one and she laughs into my mouth.

  “Do it again,” she whispers.

  God, this woman says the most normal things in the most seductive way.

  “Devour me, Spencer.”

  My hands leave her breasts. One slides up her back and slips under her hair to palm her neck. The other dips down between her ass cheeks. She squirms against my hand as I pull her pink bikini bottoms aside. I slip a finger into her wetness and begin with long, slow strokes.

  “Easy and soft,” I say as she buries her head in my neck and begins to suck. That shit drives me crazy. She makes my whole body erupt in sensations that no woman has ever made me feel. It’s not just horny. It’s a whole other level of desire. It’s love.

  “Baby,” she whispers.

  The Bombshell likes to talk during sex now. When we first met it was like pulling teeth to get her to say anything but yes, and oh my God. But now…

  “You’re so hard for me, baby,” she whispers. I like the whispers. She pulls away from my neck. Fuck me, she mouths silently.

  I love the silent fuck mes even more.

  But I shake my head. “Hard for me, baby? That’s amateur shit. That’s week two shit. I’m looking for graduation-day shit.”

  She bites her lip and then the tip of her tongue begins to caress the center of her upper lip. “Do you know what I thought about when you walked up on stage at graduation?”

  “You were proud of my academic accomplishments?” I tease.

  “I thought about your cock, pressing against your jeans under your black gown. I thought about how my mouth was caressing it a few minutes earlier as you took me in the car in the parking lot.”

  “Did you think about people watching us?”

  “Mmmm,” she hums against my neck. “I saw a man peeking in the front windshield of the truck. He grabbed himself.”

  “Fuck, did he really?” I’m sorta appalled.

  “Spencer,” she laughs into my ear. “Stop, I need a fuck. How can I earn a fuck if you refuse to let me be serious?”

  I lift her off me and lay her down in the sand. “Did you really see a guy watching us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did it turn you on?”

  “Yes, as long as you were the only one touching me, his watching for a few seconds was… exhilarating.”

  “We’re probably being watched right now.”

  She cranes her neck up to look around. We are on a private island, but it’s small and there are many other small islands nearby. Not to mention boats constantly traveling between them.

  “Should we go inside?”

  She shakes her head and bites her lip. “No, baby. I’m not done with my story. There’s something else I never told you about graduation day.”

  “Oh, you’re holding out on me, Bomb. You wicked, wicked little tramp.”

  She shushes me with a finger. “Now listen,” she says, once more in her dirty-talk whisper. “Because I was very bad that night.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “I know, Rons. I was there. We fucked in the back yard, under the moonlight.”

  “Mmm-hmm. But I had a camera hidden away in the trees.”

  “Are you serious?” I blurt, once again breaking her sexy seduction.

  “Spencer!” She smacks me on the arm. “Stop!”

  I seize her tiny wrists and lean into her mouth. “Are you telling me we have a sex tape and I haven’t watched it yet?”

  She laughs. “Do you want to watch a sex tape of
us?”

  My hands wrap around her face. “Yes, baby. Did you bring it?”

  Her nod starts out enthusiastic and my heart races as I picture all the dirty things we did in the backyard that night. But then her yes turns into a no. “What? Yes or no, Bomb. You’re killing me here!”

  She leans over and grabs her beach bag, pulling out a little video camera. “I never made a sex tape of that night. But I’d like to make one now. In full daylight. On this beach.” She looks around for boats and they are all far away. “I don’t care who sees you take me, Spencer Shrike. I’m yours. Only yours. They can look, but they can’t touch. I want to talk dirty for you on camera. I want you to record my screams as your cock unloads inside me. I want to film you eating my pussy, and then turn the camera on me and film my face when you make me come. I want—”

  I grab the camera and turn it on, then hand it back and take my shirt off. “Action, Bombshell.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  SPENCER

  Yeah, those were the good old days. When Ronnie and I could just kick back on a beach, drink beer, and think about nothing except fucking and what’s for dinner.

  My daydream is interrupted by a knock on my door. “Spencer?” Ronin calls as he opens it a crack. “Can I come in?”

  The boys must’ve warned him about my mood when he came in the shop. “Yeah,” I say back.

  He opens the door, enters, and then shuts it behind him. “They’ve got a new witness.”

  “I heard,” I mumble back.

  “Rook’s gonna come off looking pretty bad.”

  “Yup. That’s about how it’s looking right now.”

  Ford bursts through the door, no polite can-I-come-in knock from him. “Ashleigh’s with Rook in the lunchroom. Kate’s asleep.” He paces the room a few times and then stops and looks straight at me. “I’m feeling paranoid, Spencer. I’m feeling trapped. I’m feeling like we’re being set up.”

  Ronin flops down on the couch and bends over to hold his head in his hands.

  I stare out the window. “Ashleigh’s sister was just here. Talking shit about Tony and his parents. She didn’t say who’s behind the adoption thing.”