by JA Huss
“OK.” Carson puts his hands up. “OK, yeah, it was Spencer. And he sent me over here to help you out while your family is out of town. But please, don’t mention it to him. He was very clear that you should not know he was behind all this stuff.”
All this stuff, I repeat back to myself. All what stuff? But I don’t get a chance to ask, because just then the front door jingles and Bobby calls out, “Veronica? You here?”
“Be right there!” I point to the back door. “Out, Carson. I won’t say anything if you come back tomorrow and help me again.”
“Deal,” Carson says as he heads to the door. “Oh, and one more thing. While you were busy some girl came in, not from Spencer’s offer, and wanted you to paint her body for her boyfriend. Not tattoo it, but paint it. She said you’re like famous for that or something.”
“Body painting? Me?”
“Yeah, and she said she wants it done in edible paint. Like frosting or something. She and I looked it up online, they actually sell that stuff. So she placed an order for you and I made her an appointment in two weeks. She left a hundred-dollar deposit that I put in the drawer.” And then he gives me a little salute. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Edible body paint. Why have I never thought of that before?
“Veronica?”
I turn around and Bobby is standing in the doorway, his arms on either side of the door jamb, just like he was this morning. “Sorry,” I say quickly. “I was just saying goodbye to my new receptionist.” I have a private laugh at that characterization of Carson. He probably pulls in a hundred grand a year with his bank job and he spent the day with me, checking in sorority girls for tattoo appointments.
“You look happy,” he says with a suspicious tilt of his head.
“I’m not allowed to be happy?”
“Sorry,” he grins. “I’ve only known you two days, but you’ve been pretty upset each time we talked. What’s changed? Your employer treating you better?”
Hmmmm… suspicious guy number two. I bet Spencer has paid this guy off as well. I bet Spencer is behind the whole apartment being condemned and my awesome new digs.
He’s gonna pay so bad for doing this to me.
“Well…” I sigh deeply and lower my eyes. “No, he’s not been very nice to me today at all. But I’ve been looking forward to this dinner. It’s been so long…” I let my words trail off to see if Bobby catches my drift.
“Long?”
“Yeah,” I say in my best pouty bombshell voice. “Long. Since anyone paid much attention to me.”
“Spencer Shrike ignores his girlfriends? I find that hard to believe. He comes off as a player to me. Kinda like the rest of his gang.”
Gang? Ronin and Ford? That’s above my pay grade so I ignore that remark. “I’ve heard he treats his girlfriends nice too. He dates the cashier over at Big City burrito every week. You should ask her if he’s a good boyfriend. Because when I was dating him, he wanted to fuck me and paint and that’s about it.”
Bobby’s eyebrows hit the ceiling and I do a little mental cheer.
“Yeah, I know,” I add. “He dates the bartender over at the Cat Call Club too. She’s totally his type. He used to make me pole dance for him all the fucking time. Like every night.”
“Really?” Bobby unconsciously leans forward.
“Yup. Fucking, nude body painting and pole dancing. That was the extent of my relationship with Spencer Shrike.” I smile sweetly. “But that was a long time ago.”
Bobby nods slowly and I wonder if he’ll be a total copout like Carson, or…
He walks slowly towards me, his eyelids half closed as he takes me in. He stops a few feet away, and I look up into his eyes, then swallow hard at his heated stare. “Veronica Vaughn,” his deep voice rumbles, betraying a building desire. “Are you trying to play me?”
I clear my throat as he steps closer. Well, I guess he’s not the type of guy who runs away from a little femme fatale action. “Should I be offense or defense?” I snap back.
“Offense, Veronica. Always, always be offense.” He takes another step closer and then wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me towards him.
Oh, shit.
“Hmmm,” he growls in my ear. “You better be careful, Bombshell,” he whispers. “I’m not what you think.” He dips his head down, and my gaze drops to his mouth as my tongue sweeps over my lips. “Do you still want to have dinner with me?”
I drag my eyes away from his mouth, even though he still hovers close and when my chin tips up, there is a fraction of a moment when he rests his forehead against mine.
“Are you trying to scare me off?” I ask in a hushed tone.
“Yes,” he says, his grip on the back of my neck growing tighter.
“It’s working.” My chest is heaving now and he can’t stop the downward migration of his stare. Curse my big tits.
“Good,” he says as he releases me and backs off. “Good. Because I’m not a player, Veronica. I’m just a practical guy who gets the job done.”
What job? I think it, but I don’t say it.
“So I’ll ask you one more time, Bombshell. Would you like to come over for dinner?”
I pause, breathe, then pause again. “Just dinner?”
He laughs and the smile I found alluring this morning is back, the scary dark side I just witnessed gone. “Veronica, if I ask you to come for dinner, then I’m only asking you to come for dinner. I don’t deal in pretenses. I deal in truth. And I expect truth in return. So let’s try this again. Are you in a relationship with Mr. Shrike?”
“Why are you so interested?” He’s fishing, I realize. He thinks I know what they do in their little Team business.
“Yes. Or. No.”
“No,” I say honestly. “I told you, I was, but now I’m not. Not for a very long time now. He broke it off with me more than a year ago.”
“Why?”
I huff out a laugh. “I don’t think so, buddy. If you want someone to feed you information, use the internet like everyone else.”
“What if I give you something in return?” He steps forward again.
“Like what?” I know it’s all kinds of wrong, but I can’t help myself. I am getting all sorts of weird feelings about this guy, and none of them are the fun and flirty kind. I need to know what the fuck is going on. “You’ve got the hot and dangerous vibe going for you, but I’m not interested in a pity fuck.”
He laughs again. “No, Bombshell. I—”
“And why are you calling me that? That’s a real nickname I have and you should not—”
“Shhh,” he says as his fingers silence my lips. “It’s rude to interrupt.”
I smack his hand away. “It’s rude to shush someone too. Especially if you touch them.”
“I thought you said you were scared of me?” he smiles.
“I’m over it. I might be a girl, and I might look stupid and helpless because I have big tits and blonde hair. But I don’t go down without a fight.”
“I bet you don’t, Bomb.”
“Mmmhhmm. They always think my feistiness is cute at first. And if you call me that name one more time without explaining how you know about it, I’m gonna walk away.”
“What makes you think I care if you walk away?”
“Because I’m a bottom feeder, Bobby Mansi. I know desperation when I see it. You need me for something. It’s not dinner, and apparently it’s not a fuck either. So that means you want info on my ex.” I pause for a moment to see if he denies it, but he stays silent. “Or maybe it’s got something to do with Rook, or Ronin, or Ford.”
His face is impassive.
“Or”—I play my last card—“Ashleigh and Kate.”
He cracks a grin. Not a seductive one, or a scary one, or a challenging one.
No. His grin says bingo. I called it.
“I know a lot about you, Bombshell. I know a lot about your friends. And to be quite honest, most of those details bore me. All except one.”
“Ashleigh Li Aston.”
I wait for more information but none comes forth. He holds his cards. “Come to dinner,” he commands.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then goodbye.”
“Are you going to hurt her?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters! She’s my friend!”
“I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here about something else.”
“The baby?”
“She’s part of it too, but no. That’s not the main reason I’m in town.”
Damn. I’m so fucking curious. “Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t. I’m not a very good guy.”
I scoff and turn away now. I’m done. I grab my leather jacket from the locker and slide into the smooth lined sleeves, then grab my helmet and my backpack. “OK, well. I’m just gonna take your advice then. If you don’t mind, I need to lock up.” I wave him forward.
“After you,” he insists.
I swear to God, I expect him to gag me with chloroform as we walk back up front, but he doesn’t. I flip the lights off as we exit, then turn the key in the door lock and check to make sure it’s engaged. When I turn to walk to my bike, he walks with me.
“Come to dinner.”
I snort this time. “Why? I’m not giving up information that might hurt my friends.”
“I said I’m not here to hurt her. I’m not here to hurt any of your friends. I’m here to help, actually. And Veronica”—he grabs my arm before I can step off the curb and get on the bike—“they need my help.”
It’s not so much the words, but the way he says them that sends a chill up my spine. “Why? What’s going on? I know something’s going on. What’s happening?”
“They don’t tell you?” He still has a hold of my arm, but he drops it and ponders his own question. “You’re not involved at all, are you?”
“No, I have no idea what they do. You’re asking the wrong person. They don’t tell me shit. I’m really not Spencer’s girlfriend.”
And that’s when the real smile comes out. “I’ll follow you back to your condo. Dress for dinner, and I’ll come to your door and pick you up in an hour.”
I say nothing.
But he follows me when I pull out onto College Avenue, and even though I could go home to my dad’s house, Bobby Mansi has me freaked the fuck out. My dad’s big, empty house with no locking doors or windows is the last place I want to be tonight.
Winning the game of life is all about the devil you know. So I’m gonna hang with him. Get all the info I need, and then take this back to Spencer tomorrow. Maybe then he’ll see I’m not some helpless girl who can’t be trusted with secrets.
Chapter Twenty-Two
SPENCER
A little while later, after Ryan and them have all gone home, the camera crews are packing shit up in the control room and Ford and Larry are discussing the particulars for tomorrow’s filming. Rook and Ronin come back to the office. She’s been getting the front showroom all squared away while Ronin hoofed it around downtown looking for local businesses that want to get in on the big opening day and supply food and shit.
Rook plops down on the couch. “Kate just woke up from her nap. Ford sent a car to get them, should be here in a few minutes.”
I nod at her and look over at Ronin. He’s peeking through the blinds, looking out at the street. There’s been people hanging out in the parking lot all day. I’m not sure who they’re hoping to get a glimpse of. Me? That’s just weird. More likely they’re looking for Rook. In fact—“Reporters, you think?” I ask Ronin as I stand next to him and peek out.
“Probably,” he mumbles. “Even if they’re not legit, everyone’s got a camera phone. Everyone thinks they’re just one YouTube video away from Grumpy Cat greatness.” He lets go of the blinds and they snap closed again. “You got a plan?” he asks as Ford and Ashleigh come in. Kate is squirming in Ashleigh’s arms and it’s painfully obvious both of them have been crying.
“I do have a plan, and it’s not dangerous at all.”
“Good,” Ford says. “Because I’m not happy that Ash needs to be the bait. Not one bit.”
“Well, her bait days are limited, Ford,” Rook snaps. “She’s gonna be all over the news next week, so relax until we hear what we’re doing.”
Go, Rook.
“OK.” I take over since I’m the planner. “Tonight we’re gonna send Ashleigh out to Drake’s neighborhood. She’s gonna run out of gas and pull into the parking lot. Call a cab and go home.” I look at Ford as I say all this and since he doesn’t stop me, I look over to Ashleigh for acceptance. She gives me the nod. “Tomorrow, just before Drake does his usual dunchtime getaway to the Cat Call, when the whole fucking world is up and about and we’re in plain sight, we’re gonna send Ashleigh back with a gas can. While she’s busy getting the gas in her car, me and the Shrike Bikes boys will take a little run over to Drake’s and start some shit. Our new BFF Scott the townie cop will show up—”
“Wait.” Ronin stops me. “Scott’s on board?”
“Not yet, but he will be. Just let me handle it. So Scott’s gonna come by a few minutes after we arrive, we’re gonna start some shit. Ford will be up on the roof of the building across the parking lot, keeping an eye on Ashleigh and driving the bot out of the bay. Ashleigh will pick it up, stick it in the car, and leave.”
“How’s Ford gonna get on the roof?” Rook asks.
“He’s gonna stay the night up there. Keep an eye on the place tonight. Ronin, you and Rook need to go out in public while this is all going down tomorrow. I think you should go to church. It’s only three blocks from your apartment, so you can walk. And it’s right across the street from the courthouse, so no one is gonna follow you in and bother you. When the shit’s all done, we’ll text you and I’ll have Ryan swing by and pick you up. This also makes Rook look sympathetic for next week’s testimony.”
I pause to gauge reactions. “Questions? Concerns? Comments?”
Everyone looks at each other, but nothing more is said.
“OK, then. Ryan’s got an old piece-of-shit VW that he drives in the winter. That’s what Ash will drive tonight. We can’t afford to fuck up the details, so Ashleigh really will have to run out of gas, coast into the lot, and then wait for a taxi. Ford, we need to siphon out the gas and then you can calculate the exact volume of fuel we need and how far she has to drive on that tank to make it to Drake’s place.”
“The approximate gas mileage for a seventy-four VW Beetle is close to twenty miles per gallon, so she’ll have to coast over there on fumes.”
“Damn, Ford,” Rook says with a smile. “How do you know this shit?”
Jesus Christ. I shake my head at him and shoot him a look.
“I once read the owner’s manual during Right to Read Week at school—”
“Enough, Ford.” Fuck. He shuts up and I continue. “OK, so I think Ashleigh should go home with Ryan so Ford won’t be seen driving her around later. You never know who’s watching.” I wait for Ford’s tantrum. In fact everyone waits for Ford’s tantrum.
But he stays silent and I swear to God, he is so lucky.
“You’re OK with that, Ashleigh? Ryan’s a good guy. He’ll cook you dinner. It’s just for a few hours.”
“What about Kate?” she asks with a frown. “Who’s gonna watch Kate if Ford is up on the roof and I’m busy doing all this stuff?”
I’m just about to open my mouth when Rook blurts out, “I will! I’ll watch her tonight. She can stay at our place.”
“OK, yeah. That’s a good idea,” I say, looking over at Ford for a reaction to this, but he stays silent. Just calmly looking at Rook, who is tickling a now-smiling Kate under the chin. “OK, we’re set.” I get out my phone and text Ryan. A few minutes later he texts back a little picture of a upturned thumb. “Everyone goes their separate ways and we regroup tomorrow out at the farmhouse after the fake throwdown.”
We all stare at each other.
“Don’t we have a goodbye chant? Like, All for one and one for all?” Ash asks with a smirk, apparently at ease with things now that Rook is gonna watch Kate and this plan is stupid simple.
“Yeah, sure we do,” Ronin says. “Ours is, No good deed goes unpunished.”
No one laughs. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a joke.
Ashleigh and Rook leave first, talking about Kate’s needs for the night. And Ronin follows.
Ford arches one brow at me and I shake my head. He follows Ronin out and I’m just about to grab my jacket when my phone buzzes. Carson. I press his face. “Yeah.”
“First of all,” he says, gasping out each word and totally out of breath, “this is not my fault.”
I get a sinking feeling in my gut. “What’s not your fault?”
“I mean,” he says, ignoring my question, “I ran after her, OK? I ran all the way down Mason from Sick Boyz, to her condo. Left my fucking car and everything, because I wasn’t sure where she was going and I didn’t want to lose her around the first corner, so I ran.”
“So she went home? She lives in that condo right now, Carson.”
“No—yeah, I mean, I know. But it’s not where she went, but who she went with.”
“Who?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
“That Bobby Mansi guy. She says they have a date.”
That motherfucker. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was gonna ask her to dinner. I had to feign indifference to keep the charade going, but I am so fucking jealous. I can only imagine that this is how Ronnie feels every time I pretend to go out on dates with other girls. If she’s gonna leave me for this new guy, well—she’s not gonna get the chance. I’m gonna make damn sure of it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
VERONICA
There is no music in the elevator, so the silence hangs between us and even though I’m not looking at Bobby Mansi, I feel him. I feel his stare. It’s hot. Not an I’m-getting-wet kind of hot, just a make-me-uncomfortable hot.