BOMB: A Day in the Life of Spencer Shrike (4 page)

Everything in this room is covered in plastic. From the tattoo chair to the cord on her tattoo machine. Even the flat screen mounted on the wall is covered in sheeting. You really have to use your imagination when you watch TV in Ron the Bomb’s room.

It takes her a good thirty minutes to remove all the plastic and apply new between customers. We’ve all learned to love this about her, even if she’s constantly behind schedule.

She returns to the room crumpling her mask up and holding her face shield in her hand. “Why are you here?” she snaps at me.

I shrug. “I want to see you tonight.”

She busts out a long low laugh as she shakes her head and starts pulling plastic off things. “Well, that’s not going to happen, Spencer. I’ve got a date after work.”

“I know,” I say back calmly.

She looks over at me now, her eyebrows all scrunched up in confusion. “How do you know?”

“Because,” I say sweetly, “your date’s with me.”

She whispers under her breath as she turns back to her room duties. “I’m busy, Spencer. Go away. Vic!” she yells over the music and buzzing of tattoo machines.

“Veronica,” Vic says in his
how-can-I-help-you
voice. He must’ve been right outside the door. Asshole. “You need me to give him the boot?” Vic says with a smile in my direction.

“Please,” she sighs. “I’m busy, Spencer. Just go away.”

“Out, Spencer,” Vic says. “She’s working until eleven.”

“Vic!” Ronnie screams. “What the fuck?”

Vic motions for me to follow him so I get up and grab Ronnie by the waist and haul her sexy little body up against mine. “Veronica Vaughn. You’re mine tonight, baby. I’ll be back at eleven. And don’t think you can duck out early, because I’ve got my recon hat on right now. I’ve got a lot of questions for you and I’m just gonna spend the next few hours between now and then trying to answer them myself.” I kiss her on the head and pat her ass gently as I leave.

I can hear her stomping her foot and growling out obscenities after I leave. Vic is waiting for me at the front door. He opens it and I walk through, then he follows.

“What’s up?” I ask as I walk to my truck.

“You ever meet that new guy in town, Spencer? Drake what-the-fuck’s-his-name?”

“Cikes,” I hiss. “Drake Cikes. Is she going out with that fuck tonight?” Fucking Drake, I’ll kill that mother—

“No, she’s been sorta seeing an accountant or something. Real boring guy, she’s into the boring ones right now.”

“What?” She really is dating that fuck from the alley. “Wait, the boring
ones
? She’s dating more than one?”

“Spencer, that’s her business. I’m asking about that Drake fuck. Because I saw him over by your new place the other night. Stalking around the building. I was walking home from a fun night out with that redhead from Cat Call, and he was nosing around. And I know your showroom in Broomfield was just robbed. So—you know. He might be your guy.”

I grunt a little but I don’t give anything away. My team is in too deep with this shit to be copping out to some bullshit spouted off by Vic Vaughn. “Nah,” I say. “I got a lead on that other incident, and it’s not him.”

Vic nods. I’m not sure if it’s a conspiratorial nod or just a regular nod, so I let it go. “OK then. Take it easy. And Spencer?” I’m already turning to go when he calls me back. “Stay the fuck away from Veronica until she says otherwise. I will kick your ass over this. She’s happy. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but whatever it is, she’s happy. Leave her alone.”

And then he turns and walks back into the shop.

Chapter Five

Leave her alone, my ass.

I repeat that in my head over and over again as I wait for the girl at Big City Burrito to make my dinner. Fucking whatever. Ronnie is mine. Ronnie has always been mine. I own her ass. She’s belonged to me since that very first night at the shop. And if she thinks I’m just gonna give her up after all these years, she’s on some pretty powerful drugs.

I won’t.

I might ignore her, but I have my reasons and that life is almost wrapped up. I can feel it. We’re gonna wrap all that illegal shit up and move on. Ford’s fucking married and has a kid, Ronin will have Rook roped in very soon, I can already see that shit coming. And I’ll be damned if those two assholes think they’re gonna become all mature and shit before I do.

Fuck that.

I’m the mature one on this team. I’m the one who has a real career. I’ve got three businesses, plus that little campground out in Nebraska. I’m on TV, I have my own line of custom bikes, and I’ve got the whole body art painting thing going. I’m bona fide. I’m on my way up. I’ve got plans, I’ve got big, big plans.

And Ron the Bomb has always been part of it. Shit, has that woman no memory? How could she have forgotten our first date?

“Shrike!” the burrito girl yells as she hands my dinner to Carla, the girl who runs the register.

I walk up to the counter and grab the bag. “
Gracias
, Carla.”

“See ya
mañana
, Spencer.”

She winks at me and I wink back and shoot her with my finger. “Tomorrow, baby. We’re on. Pick you up at eight.”

“I’ll have my boots on, handsome!”

I chuckle as I walk out. Fucking Carla, gotta love that girl. She makes all my Thursday nights better. We’ve had a Thursday night date for almost two months now. I kinda like it too. She’s one helluva cowgirl. Fridays I hang out with Renee from the Cat Call while she’s at work. I got a new regular for Saturday. Kim from the Harley store down south in Broomfield. I don’t usually go in there since I own my own bike shop and we sell or make everything I need custom. But I was looking for a specific set of pegs for the new bike I’m thinking about building, and I found a guy from Craigslist who had them, and he just happened to work at the Harley shop.

Sunday I go home to see the folks for dinner. It’s a thing I can’t get out of even if I wanted to. My old man would kick my ass if I didn’t show up for family shit on Sundays.

So yeah, I haven’t had much time for Ronnie, but I’m a busy fucking guy. What does she want me to do? Change my whole life around? I will, eventually, but not yet. I’m not ready for that yet. Too much shit to get done.

I get back in my truck and head home. Once I get past the little town of La Porte there’s nothing else around, so I grab my burrito and start chowing. When you live thirty minutes away from the nearest real town, you learn to eat your take-out on the road. By the time I get home and let myself into the kitchen, my food is gone, my mood is even more sour, and I’m totally unsatisfied. I will go see Ronnie at eleven when she gets off, I do not care what Vic says. Ronnie and I have history.

I walk down the hallway towards my office and key in the code that controls the locks. This was Ronin’s brilliant idea. And it
is
pretty brilliant. Key codes instead of keys. You always have a key and you always have a record of when the door is accessed.

I flip the light on and take it all in. Every wall is covered with pictures of Veronica. She was my body painting model for almost three years. I have touched every inch of her beautiful body with my paintbrush. And I do mean every inch. I even painted her hair once. She hated that and I laugh just thinking about it.

Our life together started the moment I saw her and Vic arguing outside the CSU bookstore. And while I did have to wrangle a gun out of her hand to get the first real date, the second time I talked to her, things went a whole other way.

Colorado State University - Three years ago

“Miss Vaughn,” I say sweetly as I saunter up to her. She’s walking fast because she’s late for her early morning art class.

“Go away, you caveman. I’ll fix your stupid tattoo, but I’m not going to be nice about it. You kissed me, you know. Without permission.”

“You liked it last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was tired. And caught off guard. And manhandled.” She quickens her pace to try and give me a hint, but I don’t take hints. Besides, my legs are longer than hers. She can’t out-power walk me.

“You liked all of that last night if I remember correctly.”

She pulls open the door to the art building and I follow her in. We weave through the various displays in the shadowed room. “I like the art building,” I tell her casually. Like we’re just friends walking to class. “It’s dark and moody. Like the artists who study here.”

“Why are you following me?” she stops and asks in a huff, her foot stomping on the polished concrete floors.

“I’m going to class. I’m not following you.”

She looks over at me and scowls. “You have class here in this building at seven AM? Not likely. There’s only one class in here and it’s by invitation only,” she says with an air of superiority as she begins walking again.

I walk again too, then smile at her when she checks to see if I’m still following. “I’ve been invited, don’t worry.”

This makes her stop and whirl around to face me. “You’re in my class?”

“I am,” I say smugly. “I’m a transfer from DU. I major in business, but I take art on the side.”

“Oh.” She flips her long golden tresses over her shoulder. “A hobbyist.”

“Yeah.” I smirk and shrug at the same time. “You could call me that.”

She turns again and resumes the power walk. I catch up, pass her, and then hold the studio door open and wave her through.

“Thank you,” she says under her breath as she passes close enough for me to breathe in her scent. She smells like sugar. Seriously, like a fucking cookie or something. I watch her head across the room to gather her things. The studio is filled with students. At least forty of them. Everyone is setting up, getting ready for life drawing.

“Mr. Shrike,” the middle-aged voice calls out to me from across the room.

I look over at Bombshell and she’s watching me very carefully. I wink and shoot her with my finger, then turn and walk towards the professor with a smile. “Miss Aberdeen, thank you for fitting me in the class. I can see what you mean now, it’s packed full.”

She blushes at me. Yeah, I have that effect on women of all ages, so I shoot her a winning smile and tilt my head a bit. Ronin taught me that move. I might not be on speaking terms with him these days, but that guy knows all the fucking charm tricks. He has the women lined up like groupies.

I’m not a groupie gatherer, but this head-tilt thing works well enough on the professor in front of me. Her look says,
I’m an artist
. She’s got the earthy clothes that hang off her skinny frame, the glasses, the put-up hair that’s falling out all over the place, and the Birks on her feet.

She’s so earthy, I was sorta shocked when she named her condition for letting me join this class.

“Mr. Shrike—”

“Please, Miss Aberdeen, call me Spence.” I smile again and chance a look over at Bombshell. She’s set up in the front row. I already knew this. I’ve been doing recon on the Bomb since I first saw her in that fight with her brother in front of the bookstore.

“Very well, Spence.” Aberdeen blushes when she says my name and that’s sorta cute. “Next week your space is next to Miss Vaughn—”

She continues talking about what will happen next week. But I’m more concerned with what’s happening this week to give a shit about a time so far in the future, so I tune the rest out. I’m too busy looking over at the Blonde Bomb as she tries to process what’s being said.

I chuckle as Aberdeen walks away and Veronica Vaughn walks up. “You planned this. You’re stalking me, aren’t you?”

“Recon, baby. Not stalking.” And then I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it straight up over my head. Not too fast, Ronin taught me this too. He said the slow-mo shirt removal was one of the easiest ways to snag a girl. When I look back at Veronica her mouth is gaping open.

“What are you doing?” she hisses at me. “Put your shirt on!”

I drop the shirt to the floor and go for the pants. Veronica gasps when I pop the button and downright chokes when I go for the zipper. I hear a few cat calls from the back of the room as I slip my pants down.

I’m commando today, so His Highness just pops right out.

Every girl in the room explodes in laughter. It’s the good kind though. I know the difference. This laughter says,
Holy fucking shit, I cannot believe he just took off his clothes
!

“You look more like a cherry than a bombshell right now, Blondie,” I joke with her.

She shakes herself out of her silent stare and turns on her heel.

“Well,” Miss Aberdeen says as she claps her hands together in delight. “Mr. Shrike—err, Spence.” She smiles big as she says my name. “It’s too late now, obviously, but next time—”

“Next time?” Blondie says as she peeks out from behind her easel.

“—please use the dressing room over there in the corner. And put on a robe until we’re ready for you.” She bats her eyelashes at me, then steals a glance down.

“Sure thing,” I say as I wink and shoot. “Where do you want me, Miss Aberdeen?”