GUNS: The Spencer Book Read online

  Contents

  GUNS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  EPILOGUE

  EPILOGUE—PART TWO

  End of Book Shit

  About the Author

  GUNS

  GUNS

  The Spencer Book

  By J. A. Huss

  Find me at

  New Adult Addiction

  Jahuss.com

  Cover design by J. A. Huss

  Edited by RJ Locksley

  Copyright © 2014 by J. A. Huss

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN- 978-1-93641-336-2

  Other books by J.A. Huss

  Rook and Ronin Series

  TRAGIC

  MANIC

  PANIC

  SLACK

  TAUT

  BOMB

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  DESCRIPTION

  GUNS

  IF YOU HAVE NOT READ ALL THE OTHER BOOKS, STOP. Go back and read the books you skipped, including the novellas. Every book has clues and plot points, so if you have skipped books you will probably be lost immediately. :)

  Spencer Shrike is a man with a plan. Get in. Get out. Move on. He loves Ron the Bomb, and her safety is the only thing on his mind. But life is a tricky bastard. And conning criminals for the better part of ten years brings its own set of problems. Sure, Rook lied her way out of a sticky situation, covering for Ronin, Ford, and Spencer’s crimes in the process. But not everyone is buying her story and Spencer is desperate to figure out who’s in town setting them up for a fall.

  Veronica the Bombshell Vaughn has put up with Spencer Shrike’s shit for years and where has it gotten her? A big fat nowhere. No ring, no house, no kids, and no promises. In fact, Spencer is worse than ever—distant and moody. She’s done sitting at home, pining over a man she can’t have. She’s tired of being ignored and she’s coming out swinging.

  Now there’s another man in town with his eye on her. He’s got secrets too, and he’s more than willing to share. She’s ready to jump ship. Because the last thing on Spencer’s mind is a relationship, and Ron the Bomb has had enough.

  The entire Rook and Ronin series comes full circle. Every con, every lie, and every skeleton in the closet is back for one final shot at vengeance and the only way to set it right… is with GUNS.

  Chapter One

  SPENCER

  “The first rule of Shrike Club is never talk about Shrike Club.”

  “Aw, Spencer,” Ronin complains. He’s standing in my new Shrike Bikes office looking out the window that faces into the bays of my new garage. It’s a nice big place, beats the shit out of the old shop in back of my farmhouse in Bellvue. “Stop, man. It’s sad.”

  “Yes, I have to agree with Ronin,” Ford says in his dry tone that makes me roll my eyes. Like he’s so mature. “It’s not funny.”

  I look over at Carson, the banker-turned-Club member who is helping me keep Veronica out of trouble while the Team cleans up the mess we’ve been dragging behind us for the past several years. “Don’t listen to them. That joke was perfect. And the timing—”

  “I don’t get it,” he says.

  Ronin drags his attention from the window where he’s keeping a lookout for Rook, and Ford glances up from his computer. “Don’t get what?” we all say together.

  “Shrike Club. It’s a joke? I don’t get it.”

  I look over at Ford and he’s got his eyebrows up towards the ceiling. “It’s a book,” he says with disbelief.

  “Book?” I say, laughing. “Carson”—I grab him by the arm and push him away from Ford—“don’t listen to him. It’s a fucking movie. Fight Club? How could you have never heard of Fight Club?”

  He squints his eyes a little. “Yeah, I’ve heard of Fight Club, but I don’t get it.”

  “‘The first rule of Fight Club is never talk about Fight Club?’” I ask, still slightly hopeful.

  Carson gives me nothing.

  “Did you see Fight Club?” Ronin asks.

  “No.”

  “That’s it,” Ford says, slapping his laptop closed. “We can’t work with a guy who’s never seen Fight Club. It’s absurd. Real men watch Fight Club. It’s like Full Metal Jacket or… or… The Godfather. It’s something we all do as men. Carson.” He pushes past me and stands in front of the banker. “You’re out of the Club. Sorry.”

  Ronin turns back to the window and Carson begins to leave.

  “Carson, sit the fuck down. You’re not out. He’s joking.”

  “He doesn’t look like he’s joking,” Carson replies.

  I sigh. Carson is not on the Team. Only Ronin, Rook, Ford, Ashleigh, and me are on the Team. But we have a new JV version of the Team that we’re calling the Club, and Carson is the first official prospect. He’s my spy. I need him. And I need Ronin and Ford to be on board with this.

  Rook has been demoted to honorary Team member only. We’re done getting her involved in shit. In fact, all the girls are out. Ashleigh and Rook will not be a part of our little schemes from now on. And Ronnie was never part of the Team, so she’s never even gonna get close to being involved. I need Carson to pull this off, because I’ve got Ronnie working for me as my personal assistant to keep my eye on her without getting too close, and he’s my key to keeping her semi-in love with me until Agent Abelli’s trial is over. Abelli is the FBI asshole who wrongfully imprisoned Ronin, tortured Rook’s ex-husband, and threatened to sell her to a Columbian drug lord. Most of that happened here in Fort Collins, so the federal judge decided the trial would stay in Colorado.

  None of the other defendants require Rook to be a witness because they all made deals. We just have this one trial to get through, then we can put all this bullshit behind us.

  “Spencer,” Ronin interrupts my thoughts. “When did you say Rook called? You did hide the keys, right?”

  “Ronin, I’m trying to work here. She wants the motorcycle back, let her pick the thing up and bring it here.”

  “No,” Ford says emphatically. “Ronin, do not give in. Be strong. She’s much safer with no car and no motorcycle. You never know when she’ll get the urge to go save someone and take off. Take Ashleigh, she walks everywhere. I love it. No car. She’s totally localized. I’ve got no fewer than five guys on her at any one time. She has no clue she’s being guarded day and night. You should let me set this up for Rook too. Ashleigh is predictable, Rook is… not.” He stops and looks over at me.
“And Ronnie,” he huffs. “Don’t even get me started on how explosive she is. You need more than this guy to keep her in line, Spencer. Face facts here. This guy is not enough. He’s clueless.”

  “Anyway.” I shake my head. “Carson, you will go home tonight and watch Fight Club, got it? That cool with you guys?” I wait.

  But Ronin is still peeking through the blinds and Ford is checking his fingernails.

  “OK, that’s a yes.”

  Ronin turns to object but that’s when I see Rook storming down the aisle, blowing past all my mechanics as she fumes her way towards my office, trailed by a three-man camera crew. “Shit, Ronin. Here she comes.”

  Ford pushes Carson until he stumbles backwards and ends up sitting on the edge of a metal table in the corner of the room, then he and I stand in front of him as Ronin takes point.

  Rook does not knock. She doesn’t have to, she’s Rook. So she bursts through the door huffing mad. “Ronin,” she says through clenched teeth. “I need those truck keys. I know you told the guys not to give them to me, but I’m going to get that motorcycle right now.”

  She stomps her foot and we all laugh. Fucking Rook. She’s adorable.

  She points at Ford and me and we zip it.

  “Rook,” Ronin says calmly. “I told you, we’ll go get it tomorrow when I’m free. Today I have to go down to Denver and work with Antoine on something. In fact”—he looks down at his watch—“I’m late. I gotta go.”

  “Ronin, do I look helpless? I can get the bike myself. Besides”—she stops to look over at Ford—“Ashleigh said she’d come help.”

  Ford is shaking his head no before Rook even finishes her sentence. “No, Ashleigh never mentioned that to me.”

  “Ashleigh doesn’t tell you everything, Ford.”

  He laughs. “I’m pretty sure she does.”

  Rook smirks and we all start to squirm. “You’d be wrong. I have coffee with her every day now. I know her secrets.”

  I chance a glance over at Ford and he’s thinking hard about this. I smirk a little at his discomfort.

  “And you,” Rook says, pointing to me. “You think you know Veronica? Well, you don’t. Now hand over the keys or I will call a taxi, go down to the nearest dealership, and buy myself a fucking truck. Hell, maybe I’ll buy myself a motorcycle instead. And ride it home.”

  She stomps her foot again, only this time we’re not amused. We’re all scratching our chins.

  And then we all remember there’s a fucking camera crew here. Damn.

  “OK.” I grab Ronin by the arm. “Give her the keys. She’s being taped today, so she can’t get into any trouble with the camera crew with her.” I stop and the three of us look at each other. “Right?”

  Rook beams a triumphant smile and Ronin waves her through the door to go tell the garage guys to let her take the truck.

  I wait until they are halfway down the aisle before I walk over and close the door again. Ford and I turn to Carson and he’s smiling. He likes the fact that Rook won and we lost.

  “Carson, look,” Ford says. “You can be in the Club if you keep an eye on Ashleigh too. In fact, I think you should just come clean and tell these girls you’re gay. You can be the gay best friend. Do their makeup and hair, paint their toenails, whatever it is that gay best friends do with girls.”

  “I’m not gay,” Carson starts.

  But Ford is not even listening. He’s talking to me now. “If he keeps an eye on Ash and watches Fight Club, he’s in.” And then he pulls the door open and walks out.

  I turn to Carson. “I’m not gay,” he repeats.

  “Carson, do you want in the Club or not? Just pretend, dude. You get to hang out with pretty girls, what’s wrong with that?”

  He glares at me in his nerdy tan suit. Tan. Who the fuck wears a tan suit? I try to picture Ford in a tan suit and almost laugh out loud. No.

  “Fine, then. I’ll pretend for now. But that’s gonna cost you. I want a custom paint job for my Shrike Bike too.”

  I promised him a custom bike if he keeps his eye on Ronnie and helps me slip her a fake loan so she can start her own flower shop business. I’m not sure why Ronnie wants to sell flowers in a shop, she’s never mentioned it before. But if she thinks it’s better than being a tattoo artist, then more power to her. She can take that twenty grand I’m making Carson tell her came from the bank and blow it on shoes for all I care. I just want her to be happy until the trial is over and we can all breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Deal. Now what’s the plan for today?”

  “Plan?” he asks with this pathetic stupefied expression on his face. “I’m planning on going to work.”

  “Not your plan for you, Carson. Your plan for Ronnie. And Ash.” I stick that in since Ford will have a fit if I don’t include her in the recon. “How will you keep them out of trouble?”

  “Um…”

  “I got it. Ronnie needs a new car, so you call her up later and tell her you wanna go car-shopping. That’s good for one evening. We’ll just have to take it day by day. Ronnie, she’s a little bit unpredictable, ya know?”

  He’s shaking his head at me. “A little bit? Are you kidding? That girl scares the shit out of me. And her brother, man, that guy is like… like…” He huffs. “Well, just… Big. And he looks at me with that I’m-gonna-kill-you expression and you know what?”

  Carson pauses, like I’m supposed to answer that rhetorical question. I give in. “What?”

  “I think he really does want to kill me.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Carson. Vic Vaughn is the least of your concerns. He’s all bark, man. No substance behind that whine. At all.”

  “I dunno,” he says.

  Vic is not all bark. People think his name is short for Victor, but it’s not. It’s short for Vicious. What parent would name their kid Vicious? Fern Vaughn, that’s who. That motherfucking Vaughn family has been the bane of Fort Collins for decades.

  But they are pretty cool people once you’re in with them. Carson just needs to be in. And there’s no better way into the Vaughn family than taking care of their baby sister.

  It’s only then I realize Carson is still talking about Vic’s killer attitude. “—and how am I gonna get Veronica to go car-shopping with me tonight, anyway? Huh? She’s not very receptive.”

  “Simple,” I say as I take out my phone and grab her contact. I press her beautiful face and listen to the phone ring. My heart beats a little faster as I wait for her to pick up. Three years later and she still makes my heart beat faster. The fourth ring ends and it goes to voicemail. “Fuck,” I say to the machine. “Pick the fucking phone up, Ronnie. I own your ass.” I press end and dial again, but get the same result.

  “See,” Carson says. “Even you can’t contain her. But I know where she’s at, she’s over at the FoCo Cinema having coffee.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She goes there every day at ten. How do you not know?”

  I walk to the far side of my office, the side that faces the street, and peek out. And sure enough, who do I see? Ashleigh. Pushing that fucking stroller and flanked on either side by the red-vested canine face-eaters.

  “She really does meet Ashleigh there?” I ask Carson.

  He shrugs. “I dunno. I haven’t had coffee with her in a couple weeks and Ashleigh is new in town. But I know for a fact that she meets Rook.”

  “Yeah, but Rook is going out to the farm today, so—” And just as the words are coming out of my mouth, Rook pulls the Shrike Bikes truck into a parking space out front of the cinema.

  I dial the phone one more time, but I already know Ronnie won’t pick up, so my feet are busting ass out of my office and over towards the back door that leads outside.

  She thinks she can just ignore me?

  Huh.

  No.

  Chapter Two

  VERONICA

  Metallica’s Breadfan is blaring in my earbuds and at least a dozen people sitting nearby are shootin’ me the look. The
music’s not even full blast, so they can just move the fuck along and get their mid-morning coffee somewhere else. The Fort Collins Cinema is one of my haunts and that’s the way it’s gonna stay. I eat here in the restaurant four times a week and catch a movie at least twice a month. I’m a local.

  So I’m banging my head a little, watching as the work crew paints the outside of the Shrike Bikes building—which sits diagonal from the FCC—when my song is interrupted by a ding. I glance down at my phone, then ignore it.

  It’s Spencer. Again.

  When he said he’d need me on call if I took the job as his personal assistant, he was not kidding. That mother dings my ass seven, eight times a day.

  I continue enjoying my music, watching for Rook. Ever since she and Ronin got a place in Fort Collins, we meet here every day for coffee.

  I see Ashleigh first. She comes now too. I’m not sure I like her, mostly because I’m not sure I like Ford, but the baby is cute. And I like her dogs, even if they are trained to eat the face off anyone who messes with her.

  Ashleigh is one of those walkers. She walks every-fucking-where. They live all the way down Mountain Ave, across from the antique trolley station. It’s like a couple miles away, and yet that girl walks. I live like two blocks away and every damn day I’m tempted to drive the car. I was gonna take it today, but I sold it last night. So I’m out of a car.

  I suppose Ash has to walk those dogs sometime though. And the baby likes the stroller, so I don’t judge.

  Rook pulls up just as Ashleigh is hucking that humongo stroller over the curb and then they walk in together, making the bells jingle on the door. Ashleigh gets more looks than I do. She’s got a stroller, two mean-ass-looking dogs with bright red vests, plus a baby.

  And she’s married to Ford Aston. That’s like sixty-seven strikes against her right there.

  She’s way worse than me. I’ve got like ten. One for being a Vaughn. One for being a tattoo artist. One for being blonde. One each for being associated with Ford, Spencer, Rook, and Ronin. One for being poor. One for being mean. And two for having big tits. That’s eleven, but who’s counting.