“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 f**k 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 f**k’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 f**k us over. I don’t care if we lose all our money and can’t pay the f**king 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 f**ks it all back up again. That one last job is usually the opening scene of a very long, f**ked-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 f**king busy.”