by JA Huss
I look back at Ronin and he’s not taking this too well. His eyes might be looking out the window, but his mind is a million miles away. His mind is on Rook.
Just like Ford’s mind is on Ashleigh and my mind is on Veronica.
We can’t do this anymore. We have way too much to lose. But that’s a talk for another day. Today, Ronin needs to just go along. That’s it. Just go along. So I start talking again. “She’s not even involved in this, Ronin. Rook is the babysitter, right? You’re gonna be with her the whole time. You’re gonna take a nice walk to church with the baby, sit inside for a little while. Talk to the peeps in there if they ask questions. Then get in the car I send and meet us out at the farm to regroup. Ashleigh is the one taking the risk. Ford is the one who needs to be worried, not you.”
He looks over at me and then opens my office door and walks out without another word.
I sit down in my chair and sigh.
This is it. This is the end. This Team is over. And as much as I want a normal life with Ronnie—I’m fucking sad at the thought of leaving my brothers behind.
And if I’m honest, I’m scared to leave them behind as well. We’ve been through a lot. We’ve stood up for one another through so much. I’ve known for many years, even back when we were fighting, if I needed anything, I could just call. But when you’ve got babies and women involved, that answer is no longer automatic.
Because we’ve all got new priorities now.
And as much as I want all this shit to be over so I can move on with Ronnie and have a normal life… I’m sad.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
VERONICA
My morning goes by like that. I have the sorority girls and one regular today. I do butterflies and flowers, then work on the 3D robotic parts I’ve been tattooing on my regular’s arm for the better part of six months. Today is the last appointment, and I should be thrilled, because this shit is art. This tattoo will find its way into magazines, will be all over the internet the second the redness goes away, will win competitions if he decides to enter—it’s that awesome.
This tattoo will be famous for another reason. Because the arm it’s inked on belongs to a drummer for an up-and-coming Denver band. They had a single featured on iTunes last Christmas and they’re almost ready to put out their first full-length CD. And he wants to come back and have me do the other arm next month.
I told him yes. What could I say? No? I’m quitting? I’m a quitter?
I’m not a quitter, so I told him yes. I scheduled it for May, the day he comes back from a short small-venue tour in California.
But my mind is really not on tattoos right now. My mind is constantly wandering over to Rook. And Kate, and Ashleigh.
Because in two hours, I’m gonna be involved in something horrific.
I swallow that down, because even if it goes perfectly, even if I save Spencer’s ass by doing this, the second he finds out, he’s done with me. I’ll never be his friend again, let alone his girlfriend.
The phone in my pocket buzzes and I jump, dropping the machine I’m cleaning into the stainless steel sink in my room. Shit. I remove my nitrile gloves—I might be distracted enough to forgo the plastic on the chair and shit, but I do not fuck about with cleaning without some heavy rubber gloves. I lay them on the counter and turn the water off, then fish out my phone.
Twenty minutes. Do not be late.
Oh, God. My stomach is in knots.
“You OK?” I spin around and Carson is looking at me with a worried frown. “You look freaked out.”
“No, I just have a date with that guy again. So I need to go. Thanks a bunch for your help. I’ll probably be OK tomorrow. Vic and my dad will be here at two, so you don’t need to come in.” He’s about to protest, but I put a hand up. “Carson, believe me, you do not want to come in. All those clichés about dads, daughters, and shotguns… well. They’re cliché for a reason. Some fathers really do that shit and mine is one of them.”
He looks at me for a few seconds, but then he nods and drops it. “OK, then. Call me and we’ll go car-hunting. Spencer is still really adamant about you getting a safe car.”
This makes me smile. My Spencer. He cares about me. He wants me to drive safely. “OK, sure.” I say it but I don’t mean it, because after tonight, Spencer will want nothing to do with me.
I go back to cleaning my machine and getting it ready for the autoclave, and Carson takes the hint and lets himself out the front door. I throw the bagged parts of my machine into the sterilizer and then walk down the hall and lock the door, leaving the neon sign that’s flashing open to the outside world on. I parked in front tonight, but I’m not taking the bike home. I’m walking. It’s not even six o’clock, but it’ll be dark soon, so I grab my pack and hoof it out the back door.
The condo building on Mason is only about a mile away, so I take off at a jog. I glance over at Shrike Bikes as I make my way across Maple, but there’s nothing going on over there. Everyone is in position for that secret job they’re pulling tonight, I suppose. By the time I make it to the building I’m sweaty and out of breath. I have no key to get inside the security door, but I don’t need one. The place is unlocked.
I pull the door open and step in. My stomach sinks. Because it’s dark too. And deserted. Something is wrong.
Have I ever seen anyone besides me, Bobby, and the doorman here?
No. Never.
I swallow hard and go to the elevator, but when I push the button, it stays dark.
My phone buzzes again. Get in position now, Veronica, the text says. I look up at the camera domes and give a hesitant nod.
I pull the door to the stairs open and climb up to the second floor. I’m just about to pass the exit to my condo but my curiosity gets the better of me and I leave the stairwell and head to the closest apartment. When I turn the handle I expect the door to be locked—or maybe I hope the door is locked. But it’s not.
I open it and my suspicions are confirmed. No one lives in this building but Bobby Mansi and me. The condo is empty, the floors are unfinished concrete, there’s no kitchen, only the plumbing sticking out of the walls.
My phone buzzes again. I check the ceiling for cameras and pull the door closed as I exit and then make my way back in to the stairs and resume climbing. I don’t look at the text until I’m upstairs in front of the penthouse door.
Service terminated.
Wonderful. I hope to fuck this phone will still record, because I’m not gonna be part of this with no record to save my ass if it all goes wrong.
When I walk inside this time, I am stunned. Because everything is gone. Even the kitchen. Just bare concrete. And something tells me that if I went to my apartment downstairs, it would look the same way. I bet my real apartment has mysteriously been vacated of all asbestos workers and is one hundred percent normal as well.
Who has the money and resources to play this kind of game?
The insistent buzz of my phone jolts me out of my pondering. Later, Ronnie, I tell myself. But right now, I need to make sure Bobby Mansi comes out of this alive. Bobby’s instructions were to hide. But what the fuck? He never said the place would be dismantled when I got here.
Think, think, think, Veronica. I walk over to the stairs that lead up to the rooftop deck and kick open a grate that covers the lower steps. A door slamming in the hallway near the elevator jolts me out of my stupor and I drop to the floor and wiggle into the small space.
I grab the screen and pull it in front of me. I can’t fasten it or anything, but here’s hoping that doesn’t matter because Bobby walks into the room with a tall blonde girl and a guy who looks exactly like him.
I aim the phone camera at them and press record.
“I saw her over there, Tet,” the new guys says to Bobby. The new guy pushes the gagged, bound, and blindfolded woman to the center of the room. She stumbles, but Bobby reaches out and grabs her arm before she can fall.
“Don’t, Cy.”
A few small whimpers escape
past the woman’s gag, and this is enough to anger the new guy. Are they twins? No. Bobby looks older than this guy. But they definitely look like brothers, they are that alike. “She better shut the hell up or believe me, I’ll put this bitch down like a dog.”
He’s got a gun—the same gun I have, in fact, the FN Five-SeveN—and he pushes it under the woman’s chin. Bobby slaps the gun away and pushes the brother back. “I’m fucking warning you, Cy. Do not fuck with her.”
“This bitch has it coming and I swear to God, if this shit goes bad, she’ll be the first to get hit.”
“And you’ll be the second, brother, so use some of that control they spent all these years beating into you for once. It’s not her fault you’re in this position. It’s yours. So keep with the fucking plan and do not stray.”
The new guy is wearing all black. He looks like an assassin. Bobby said he was a soldier, but he’s still wearing a suit. He looks like a businessman.
The woman is about the same age as him, maybe mid-to-late twenties. She’s wearing a fancy dress and some brown leather boots. Only they don’t say fuck me, they say envy my credit card. Bobby leads her over to the fireplace, which has a ledge about knee-high as the hearth, and carefully urges her to sit without speaking. She’s got earbuds in her ears and the wire leads down to an MP3 player strapped to her arm like joggers wear. So she can’t see, talk, or hear. Bobby ties her feet together and then backs away.
“You do your job your way, and I’ll do mine,” the guy in black says. “And fuck that brother shit. We’re nothing, Tet. Nothing. You chose them over me and I’ll never forgive you.”
Bobby says nothing, just stares at his angry brother, his jaw clenching a few times. The fist not holding a gun is pumping. Like he’s got the urge to hit this Cy person, but is restraining himself. “You grab the Blackbird and the Duchess, I’ll get the Kitten.”
“And the Bomb?” the angry guys asks.
I have to stifle a gasp, because shit, that’s my mobster name. That guy wants me.
“The Bomb is out. I had her picked up at work. Her bike is still in front of the shop, but she’s been taken to her old apartment. Leave her out of this.”
“I’ll get her too, if you fuck up,” Cy says. “I’ll get all of them if you fuck this up.”
Bobby nods. “Sure. Sure you will.” Then he turns and walks back to the stairs, his footfalls fading away with him. It takes the new guy a few seconds to follow, but he does.
And then the heavy stairwell door slams closed and I’m alone.
With hostage number one.
Chapter Thirty
SPENCER
I sit at my desk for the rest of the afternoon. Ford calls again at four thirty. Ronin left with Rook and Kate. Ashleigh left with Ryan. He’s already dropped her off at the gas station down the road. Ford’s got five pairs of eyes on her alone, so we’re both watching a silent feed of her in real time. I watch the cab pull into the gas station parking lot, and then head out, grabbing my new helmet off my toolbox as I walk past and enter the back garage. The guys are all waiting. They know something is up, but they keep silent. In fact, it’s so fucking quiet in this garage with no camera teams around or Director Larry barking out commands, it makes me uneasy.
“You guys don’t have to come.” I stare at Ryan when I say it.
He smiles at me. “Just shut your trap and start your bike, Shrike. Let’s go rile Fonzie up.”
We all kick the bikes over at the same time and the garage is alive with the thunder of power. I push the button on the opener and the doors lift up. We wait until they are halfway, and then the four of us pour out of the building looking every bit as badass as we sound. The crowd that was out front is running our way and Ryan gives them a little salute as the door closes behind us and we exit out onto Maple Street, then stop for the light at College.
We’ve got the attention of the entire downtown. Heads are peeking out of doors, a line of people waiting for coffee at the FoCo Cinema across the street all turn round simultaneously, and when the light turns green, car alarms go off from the noise we’re making. We cross College and head down Riverside.
I tap the Bluetooth attached to my ear and wait.
“I’m here,” Ford says after a few seconds.
“Keep me updated,” I say back. I’m not sure if he can hear me over the roar of the bikes, but that’s the best I can do at the moment.
“Scott’s on alert. He’ll start driving over in eight minutes. Ash just pulled up in the cab. The whole garage is looking at her. Fonzie is making his way over, asking her if she needs help. I need your ETA so I can talk myself out of going down there and kicking his ass for talking to her.”
“Five minutes,” I say back.
“Well, hurry the fuck up.”
“Where’s Ronin?”
“I’m here,” Ronin says. “We’ve got Kate and we just left our apartment building heading south. We’ll be inside in about… five.”
“Any trouble?” Ford asks Ronin.
“Not right away, but yeah. The cameras are practically jumping out of the bushes right now. But I’ve got it covered. We’re a block away now. You OK, Rook?”
Ford and I stay silent as we try to hear her answer, but we can’t catch it.
“Hey, back off!” Ronin yells to someone in their vicinity. “I’ve got a camera too, asshole.” Ronin goes quiet for a second and then speaks low into his phone. “I can see your security, Ford, so we’re good.”
“If those reporters touch Kate, I’ll kill them. What’s your ETA now, Spencer?”
“We’ve arrived, you freak. Can’t you hear us coming?” Because I can—our bike noise comes through the ear piece connecting me to Ford. “Let’s start some trouble.”
“Ashleigh is still filling her tank. Hurry, Kitten,” Ford urges her from afar. “Fonzie is looking your direction, Spencer. Here he comes, get ready.”
The four of us pull up into the industrial complex driveway that winds around the various buildings and then make the left turn that leads to Cikes Bikes. I still have to shake my fucking head at that shit. There was no name under that picture Ford showed me of him and his pedophile father, so I bet that’s not even his real name. Asshole.
Drake and his team of seven or eight are all walking down the driveway once we turn into their little parking lot. I look past him at Ashleigh, who is still messing with the gas can.
The boys and I stop and rev our bikes, letting the douchebags come to us.
“I’ve got the bot into the bay,” Ford says in my ear.
“We’re inside the church,” Ronin adds.
“We’re a go here too,” I chime in. I nod my head at Fonzie as he comes up talking shit. Ryan and I look at each other and smile and then Griff and Fletch shut their bikes down and get off.
Another look at Ryan tells me he knows what’s up, so I let them take it from here and watch Ford drive the little bot over to Ashleigh. She’s got the trunk open and then she races to the bot, scoops it up, and puts it in the trunk.
And that’s when Fonzie decides he wants to fight. He swings at Fletch, but Griff knocks him back and then all eight of those posers are on my two guys. Ryan and I are off our bikes, throwing punches, when the cops show up. Scott is ordering us to stop on his speaker, but the only thing I care about is that Ashleigh weaves that piece-of-shit Beetle in between our chaos and drives off.
“Mission accomplished,” Ford says. “Now get out of there and we’ll meet at the farm.”
Everything is a blur after that. People are pushing me, Fletch and Griff are still trying to throw punches, and Ryan is talking to Scott calmly.
“Shrike, what the fuck is going on?” Scott asks.
“Hey, we pulled up to check things out and these assholes just attacked us.”
“Yeah,” Ryan says. “I’ve got it all on film.”
Fucking Ryan might be my new number one.
Scott watches the video for a few seconds and then takes out his cuffs and makes a gra
b for Drake. His little blonde partner catches Fonzie before he can slink away from Scott, and slaps the cuffs on him.
“Paybacks are a bitch,” I say under my breath. But Fonzie catches it and lifts his chin a little as he sneers at me.
“You best remember that, Shrike.”
“OK, we got a problem here,” Ronin says in my ear. “There’s a mess of fucking reporters inside the church now. We need that car.”
“I’ve lost Ashleigh,” Ford says, just as Ronin finishes.
“What?” we say together. Both Scott and Ryan are looking at me funny.
“I’ve lost contact. The car stopped in an alley, two blocks east of downtown. I’m on my way, maybe she ran out of gas again.”
“Call her, Ford,” I say out loud, even though both Ryan and Scott can hear me clear as day. I hold my hand up to their questioning looks.
“I did, she’s not answering.”
“I need that car, Spencer. We need to get out of here. I’ve got Rook and Kate in the bathroom.”
“She’s not here,” Ford says.
“What?”
“Rook?” Ronin calls. “Rook?”
“What the fuck is happening? Ford? Ronin?”
“Ashleigh’s gone,” Ford growls.
“Rook and Kate are gone too. I put them in the bathroom and they’re gone!”
I look over at Drake and he’s smiling. “Paybacks, Mr. Shrike, are always a bitch.”
I lunge at him, swing mid-leap, and my fist crashes against the side of his jaw. His head swings in this exaggerated motion, almost like I’m watching in slow-mo, and then we both hit the ground. I sit up, straddle his chest and start whaling. “Where the fuck are they!” I pound on his face, one punch after the other. “I will kill you—”
My oxygen is cut off as an arm wraps around my throat, and then I’m being dragged off Drake.
Scott leans down, rolls Drake over and picks him up off the ground. It’s only then that I realize the person holding me back is Ryan. I stop struggling and he lets go. “That motherfucker,” I say, walking towards Scott as he lifts Drake up off the ground. “That mother—”