by JA Huss
Rook. Rook is our last chance to put this shit to rest. Rook needs to just get up on that stand and lie her ass off. She needs to stick to the story she told last year. That’s the only way this will end and Ron and I can be together.
If we can just get past the trial…
Chapter Twenty-Seven
VERONICA
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I take the stairs down to the garage where my bike is. Rook. We’re having coffee at Shrike Bikes today, park in back and the crew will let you in.
OK.
Yeah. Today has nothing in common with yesterday. I thought this week and last week were totally different, but today and yesterday are like two different dimensions. Yesterday I was Veronica Vaughn, tattoo artist. Today I’m Bombshell the Assassin’s Assistant.
I still don’t know who Bobby—Tet, or whatever the fuck his name is—will be killing. And actually, he never said he was killing anyone, but he never denied it either. And he left me with the impression that silence is a valid answer for a reason. It means the question is important, he’s just not giving me an answer.
What he did tell me was that he’s part of a secret organization—aren’t they all?—and he’s here to complete a job that somehow involves Ashleigh and Kate.
And Spencer, I remind myself. Bobby didn’t elaborate on the whole you’ll-help-me-or-your-boyfriend-will-die thing, either. And I’m too chicken shit to ask outright. Because I’m not sure I want to know the truth.
What if Spencer is part of this guy’s business? Spencer told me he was guilty that night last week. But he never said of what—just everything they said about him on the news that year we met was true. But that’s ludicrous. They said a lot of shit that I know for a fact wasn’t true. Like he came from an abusive home. That was said once. I looked up all the reports after he left that night. That’s definitely not true. And they said he knew Ronin since they were six, but that was Ford. They got that wrong too. So Spencer is exaggerating. He’s not guilty of everything.
But some of the stuff rings true to me. I know they’ve conned people. I’m not sure who it was, but Spencer and I were out once with some friends of his from Ronin’s old neighborhood in Denver, and I heard mention of con jobs. Drug dealers, they said. But I’m not sure conning drug dealers is a bad thing. Spencer does not do drugs. We’ve never smoked a joint or anything. We drink beers when we’re out together. But he’s not a partier and neither am I.
Spencer is all business. His life pretty much revolves around his work. Be it painting, or bikes, or the show.
So murder? Yeah, they said it on TV. And yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what Spencer was referring to the other night when he said he was guilty. But murder? I just can’t see it.
Spencer is a calculating guy. He’s a thinker. He’s calm and rational and he plans everything. He makes lists and keeps spreadsheets. He’s not a guy who just goes off and murders someone.
He’s a gun fanatic, sure. He’s got guns stashed everywhere in the house. And whenever I asked him why he needed so many guns, it was always the same answer. ‘You might only get one chance to save your life with a gun. Keep one on you and keep one next to you.’
I’ve been packing heat since the first day I met him and went to his shop to see the ’56 Blackbird. After our very first dirty fuck, Spencer loaded me up, set me on the back of his dirt bike and took me out to the gully he uses as a shooting range on his property so he could show me the basics.
But even though on the surface he looks like he’s half-crazed about these weapons, he’s not. He’s very disciplined. We’ve been in several confrontations while traveling and even though I know he’s always got a gun on him, he’s never, ever pulled it out. Ever.
The gun doesn’t make the man. That’s what he always said. The gun doesn’t make the man.
I palm the FN Five-SeveN through my jacket, just to quadruple-check that it’s there. It’s not big, and it’s not heavy, not even when it’s fully loaded, so it fits nicely in my inside pocket.
I straddle the bike, snap on my helmet, and start her up. I ease back out of the parking space, then give her a little gas on the throttle and stop at the gate. I don’t have an opener, or the code to get back in here, but the gate must be on an automatic trigger, because it opens for me after a slight pause.
I pull out on Mason Street and barely have time to shift into third gear before turning on Maple and pulling into the lot behind Shrike Bikes. There’s a lot of cars and bikes here, but the door opens before I even shut the engine down. I get off and walk over to the open door, taking off my helmet.
“Rook and Ashleigh are in the front.”
I don’t really know Spencer’s mechanics since they were never part of the biz when I was around, but I have seen Ryan enough to know his name. I smile and walk past as he lets the door close behind me. “To the right,” he says, pointing.
I walk down the hallway, go through a steel door, then come out in the showroom. I can hear Rook and Ashleigh talking in a room behind the counter, and the whole place smells like coffee.
I really need some coffee.
“… so I have to piss on the stick tonight.”
“No!” Rook exclaims as I enter the little room behind the showroom desk.
“Oh, hey, Ronnie,” Ashleigh says as she hands Kate a baby cookie.
“You’re pregnant?” I ask.
“She doesn’t know yet. But Ford’s asking her for a test to check.” Rook waggles her eyebrows at me. “They’ve been bareback for months.”
Great. That’s just great. I’m gonna help a man abduct her tonight, and she might be pregnant.
“Coffee, Ronnie?” Rook asks, handing me a cup. “Spencer got me this new coffee machine and outfitted the store room as my own personal space.”
“Why?” I’m confused. And jealous. Why the fuck does Spencer do everything for Rook? I’m insanely jealous every time he pays attention to her, even after he told me how he really feels last night.
“The boys don’t want us having coffee across the street until things die down,” Ash says. “Why do you have that look on your face?”
“I don’t have a look,” I reply defensively. “I’m just confused, that’s all.”
“Ronin is crazy thinking about the reporters.”
“Yeah,” Ash joins in. “And Ford, holy shit, he’s off-his-meds insane over this stupid job tonight.”
“Ashleigh,” Rook chastises.
I walk over to the fancy coffee machine and press the button for coffee, then take my time adding cream and sugar. I can’t hear them whispering behind my back or anything, but I can almost feel the looks and hand gestures.
When I turn they’re both smiling big. Like I just caught them doing something bad. I ignore them and plop down on the couch.
“Spencer came in happy this morning,” Rook offers.
“Well, he got laid last night, so I guess that’s why,” I reply back, uninterested. All I’m thinking about is tonight. How am I supposed to help Bobby/Tet do this job when Ashleigh is pregnant?
“Earth to Ronnie,” Rook says as she snaps her fingers in front of my face.
“Huh?”
“I said, are you two back together?”
Are we back together? We can’t be back together, because then my loyalty belongs to him. And I can’t choose him over this job, otherwise his life is in danger. “No, I’m seeing someone else. This Italian guy from my building. He owns the building, actually. He owns the other apartment building too, but there’s asbestos in that one and—”
“Whoa,” Rook says. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you say Italian guy?” Ash asks, her face pale with worry when I look over at her.
Yeah. That’s a dead giveaway. Does she know this guy? Maybe, maybe not. But she’s worried. I know her Tony came from the mafia, Rook spilled that part to me as soon as she found out. Damn, I wish I had a picture of Bobby. Or a picture of Tony. “Hey, we should go to your house for coffee, Ash.
Let’s go now.”
“No,” they both say together. “We’re not allowed out of the building today,” Rook says.
“Until later anyway,” Ashleigh explains.
Rook shoots her another look and it’s pretty clear they are in on the job Bobby was referring to last night. I just sulk on the couch for the entire hour after that, saying pretty much nothing. My mind is racing at top speed, trying to justify kidnapping my friends.
The ends justify the means. That’s what Bobby said last night. Yes, it’s horrific and terrifying, but the end justifies the means.
Of course, he never told me the end. I laugh out loud at that and both Rook and Ronnie stop talking to shoot me a look of concern. “Sorry,” I say quickly.
They continue to talk until I get a text from Carson telling me I’m late to open the shop. Holy hell. I get up, say my quick goodbyes, and then head for my bike. Three minutes later I pull up in front of Sick Boyz, more confused than ever.
Because I might be trading the lives of my friends for Spencer.
How does one choose between friend and lover?
My shoulders sag as I get off the bike and greet Carson. I open the door, flip the sign to open, and then head back to my room as Carson talks to me from the register.
I don’t hear any of it though, because all I can think about is how I’m on the wrong side.
I’m totally on the wrong side.
But it doesn’t matter.
Bobby Mansi made it crystal clear. If he dies, I’ll lose everything. Because he won’t fix the trial until his mission is complete. And I’m not even sure what that mission is, but I need to be on board. Because if Rook testifies… all my friends go to jail.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
SPENCER
“Hello? You dumbasses still there?”
Ronin and I just look at the phone on my desk. I’m so fucking distracted today about Veronica, I should just go home. I loved her being here in the building this morning, but now she’s at work and Carson, damn. That guy is a lot of things, but a hero isn’t one of them.
“We’re here,” Ronin says. “Just… processing.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Say it again. Because I’m pretty sure you just said you saw Ashleigh’s sister drive by six times.”
Silence from Ford means he’s irritated. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose, gritting his teeth so hard his TMJ will be acting up tonight, and closing his eyes, sympathizing with himself about having to deal with stupid people. “You’re giving me a headache,” he says calmly.
“Well, you’re giving me a headache,” Ronin replies. “So just explain why the fuck we should care that Ashleigh’s sister is here. Is she the one behind the bike theft? Is she the one behind the sudden appearance of the new witness in the trial? Is she filing for adoption of your kid?”
“No, Ronin,” Ford says in his why are you on this team voice. “But she’s a wild card we can’t afford to discount. What if this bitch does something unpredictable?”
“As in what?” Ronin asks. “She’s gonna swoop in and save Ash from an out-of-gas car while we’re in the middle of the job? I’m not following.”
I have to bite back the cringe as Ford remains silent.
“OK, I’m back to surveillance. Spencer¸ you owe me for this. I am not recon for a reason.” The three quick beeps says the call has been ended on the other side.
“What’s he so fucking strung out about, Spence?” Ronin asks, turning to me. “It’s like he’s having a conversation with himself. I don’t get it. Is the new family compromising him or what?”
“I don’t think that’s it, Ronin. He’s just worried about Ashleigh doing this job. He doesn’t want her involved, but we’ve got no choice.”
“Yeah, well, this is the part I’m not getting. OK? It’s a pretty fucking simple job. Get dropped off in a taxi, fill up the tank with two gallons of gas. Start up the car. Wait for you and your crew to show up and distract everyone. Ford drives the bot out, Ash picks it up. She drives away. What am I missing?”
I wait a beat too long and Ronin is on to me. He starts shaking his head. “You better come clean, Spencer. I swear to God, if you two are keeping shit from me, I will flip the fuck out.”
“That’s not it,” I say calmly. “That’s not it at all. It’s just…” This is not a lying pause. Ronin taught me this pause. It’s an I don’t want to tell you the truth, but the truth is coming out anyway pause. “It’s just we’re not one hundred percent sure who all the players are.” And this is not a lie either. That’s the whole fucking reason we’re doing this job, right? To get the players lined up like soldiers.
Ronin’s brow furrows. He’s not buying it and like the inexperienced liar I am, I keep talking. “What if there’s someone else involved? What if Ashleigh’s sister is the one behind all this? What if all this has to do with Ford and not Rook? What if we’ve been targeting the wrong enemy?”
“You know something and you better fucking tell me right the hell now.”
“Ford thinks Ashleigh’s father is the one behind the stolen motorcycles.”
“But why?”
The fact that Ronin is still asking me for answers and not filling them in himself tells me he thinks I’m lying. I might not be the liar on the Team, but the liar has been one of my best friends for ten years. I know him. He knows me. We know Ford. And all of us can feel there’s something wrong with us right now.
“It’s a distraction, I guess.” I shrug my shoulders, but it’s lame and even I know it so I play my last card. “Ford never told you, and dude, I’m sorry for keeping it from you all this time, but Ashleigh’s family ties are big-time…” I search for the right word. “Big-time corporate mobsters, I guess. And the guy she was engaged to, Kate’s real father, that guy comes from the actual Italian mob. Not some low-life rank either. But like the fucking Godfather’s son.”
I wait for Ronin’s reaction but he rolls a hand at me to keep going.
“And the Godfather and Ashleigh’s father, Damian Li, they hate each other. They both do business in San Diego. Ashleigh left the US for college and met up with Tony, the Godfather’s son, in Japan. Tony joined the military, became a SEAL, and then got blown up on some mission. Stop me if you’ve heard this.”
I wait but Ronin is not amused because he has not heard this. Not one bit of it, and now that he realizes I have, he’s only gonna get angrier.
“Ashleigh went a little insane when the death of Tony and the birth of Kate pretty much occurred simultaneously, left Japan on this whacked-out road trip, and may or may not have tried to kill herself by falling asleep in a broken-down car during a blizzard. Ford unwittingly saved her, took her to LA thinking she just wanted to have words with the guy who left her hanging and pregnant in another country, not realizing Tony was dead, and then Ashleigh’s father came and forcibly took Kate, threatening to incarcerate Ashleigh in a psychiatric facility if she didn’t give the baby over to her sister to be adopted.”
“Shit. Holy fuck. Why didn’t Ford tell me?” Finally Ronin is processing.
“That’s not all, dude. Ford lied his way into Damian Li’s home, then married her on the spot using some legal loophole only California has, called a confidential marriage license. The woman who performed the ceremony is still hiding in Australia, that’s how terrified she is to face Li.”
“So,” Ronin says, finally ready to fill in the blanks. I do my best not to breathe a sigh of relief. “We’re not only dealing with corrupt FBI and politicians who think keeping girls as sex slaves is OK, but also a double-crossed corporate criminal, and maybe even a real-life mobster, both of whom are related to Ashleigh and Kate. Well, that’s fucking wonderful. And you guys didn’t think to tell me this earlier?”
I relax a little, because he’s playing along right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s on board. I’m dealing with our liar. And even though this was kept from Ronin and this is all one hundred percent true as far as I know, none of this shit is what Ford does not
want Ronin to know. Or me, my nagging thoughts add, as if I needed anymore bullshit on my plate.
“Of course we thought of telling you, dickwad. But we figured you had enough on your plate with Rook’s problems. But now we’re second-guessing ourselves. Maybe Rook’s not the problem, maybe Ashleigh is.”
All of that was true. Every word of it. And Ronin knows this, so even if he’s still suspicious, he has to let it ride.
“What about the new witness for the trial?” he finally asks, after several seconds of silence. “How’s that play into it?”
I throw up my hands because I actually have no idea. “He’s just another witness. I mean, look, the defense has a team of very accomplished lawyers. Of course they can find a witness to substantiate their claims against Rook. It’s not that unusual. Right?”
“And Drake?”
“Ford found something when he was doing his computer thing back in his apartment. Drake, it turns out, is the illegitimate son of our friend the Boulder pedophile.”
“What?”
“Yeah, so shit’s starting to make sense, right?”
He shakes his head at me, angry as all fuck. And I don’t blame him. If the tables were turned, I’d be raging. “Then why keep it from me, Spencer? That shit’s not cool. At all.”
“Rook,” I say as he stops his pacing and looks over to me. “Rook cannot know anything else. She’s a terrible witness, Ronin. Too much information is just as bad as too little.”
Ronin paces the room a few times. He looks over at me, then stops in front of the window and peeks through the blinds. There’s people outside again, but they are not in the parking lot today. I hired security to rope it off. They are out by the sidewalk with their signs. And really, who gives a fuck about some picketers at this point? We’ll deal with them if they come too close. Right now we’re dealing with two mobsters, the FBI, two teams of lawyers, three girls and a baby we’re trying to keep safe, and the possibility of the Team breaking up over these lies I’m telling.
Those people outside are not even on my radar.