Ford kneels down next to me and Spencer sits on the rock, squishing his body into mine. “First of all, you know what I do on the team, right?”
“Computer stuff,” I say in a small voice.
“Yes. And Spencer here is our logistics guy, OK? But he’s also the muscle. So if we need someone roughed up, that’s Spencer’s job.”
I look up at Spence and he shrugs. “Can’t help it, Blackbird. I’m the biggest guy here, I got the job by default.”
“Did you guys murder that businessman, like all the papers say?”
“Rook.” Ford pulls my attention back to him before Spencer can answer. “Look, we don’t go looking for trouble and we’re not violent. You shot Jon, not us. We had no intention of physically hurting him. But as you saw firsthand, things don’t always go as planned. Veronica showed up and as good as that was for you, it almost got her killed, right? Even though we never intended for her to be involved, let alone get hurt, or God fucking forbid, killed. Sometimes shit happens and the plans just disintegrate.”
“Did you guys murder that businessman?” I ask again.
“Well,” Spencer says. “Look, it wasn’t meant to happen. It was not meant for him to die, all right? I did what I had to do to prevent him from involving another innocent party.”
“I need to hear this whole story. Like now. I never signed up for this, Ford. I never wanted to be a part of this shit.”
Ford opens his mouth to speak, but Spencer’s words are the ones that come out.
“I killed him, Rook. We were stealing his money, money he used to fund too many dirty things to even list off the top of my head. Shit like drugs, embezzlement from non-profits, porn. Just filthy shit. And we needed to get inside the house for some codes and it just all went down wrong.”
“How did you find that out? The bad stuff he was doing?”
“His daughter told us,” Ford says. “Told Ronin, actually. She never knew we were involved until after and the papers got a hold of the story. But this isn’t what you need to know. We’re telling you about that because you’re already in and we need you to trust us, to cooperate, and to understand what it means that Ronin is in jail.”
I have a very bad feeling about this.
“You see, what I do has risk. I hack into very secure databases and networks. Some of them very high-level. I’m risking a lot of prison time, possibly even a treason charge when I do some of this. Do you understand?”
“OK.”
“And Spencer’s job has risk. He killed that man. He’s guilty as fuck, Rook. He’s got a murder charge all over him. Do you understand this? Spencer’s job has risk.”
I nod but I’m not liking how often he’s repeating the word risk one bit.
“Ronin’s job also has a risk. Ronin’s job is to be the front man, the face of the operation, to clean up the mess. Lie to the police, take the heat, and get the rest of us off. Ronin’s job is to lie, Rook. He’s a very, very gifted liar when he’s working.”
“Oh, God,” I moan. My boyfriend is a professional liar!
“Ronin is the only one of us allowed to talk to the police. He’s the only one allowed to give a statement. If Spencer and I are brought in or questioned for any reason—for anything—we are to exercise our right to remain silent. And if we ever get to court, we are to plead the Fifth and not testify. We are not allowed to be involved, Rook. We cannot in any way make a statement in favor of or against ourselves or each other. Only Ronin is allowed to talk. Do you understand this?”
“No. I don’t get it.”
“Oh, I think you do,” Ford says in a cold voice. “You get it, because you’re not stupid. But I’ll spell it out for you anyway. Ronin is the fall guy, Rook. If Ronin gets picked up and we don’t, we do not help him. His job is to get himself off. And we won’t be getting involved in this mess right now, either. I’ve got no idea what he’s in for—it reeks of that Boulder job, but it’s got Jon written all over it as well. So we can’t take any chances. We will stay up here, shut our faces, and sit tight. Do you understand?”
I nod, because what choice do I have? I’ve got a psycho hacker on one side and an admitted murderer on the other. I’m out-gangstered on both ends. But as we walk back to the house, the guys still holding on to my arms—I’d like to think to prevent me from falling in the moonless dark, but that’s wishful thinking—the only thought running through my head is that I need to grab my shit and go.
Chapter Thirty-Three - ROOK
“Sit.” Ford’s words come out as a command. My training kicks in and I sit the fuck down in the nearest chair and keep my mouth shut. Spencer takes the couch and Ford stands in front of the TV. “Who’s hungry?”
Who’s hungry? I roll my eyes at him but I ask permission before I get up. “May I go downstairs and take a shower? You guys dragged me though the fucking mud.”
Spence mumbles out a, “Sure, go ahead.”
“I’ll go with you, Rook. Spencer, you sweep the place and lock us up.” Ford grabs my arm and pulls on me until I stand. “Come on. I don’t like the basement, I don’t want you down there. There’s no escape except for the window well in the bedroom.”
“You know what I don’t like?” He doesn’t answer, just walks me through the kitchen and waves a hand at the stairs. “Well, I’ll tell you anyway, since you’ve suddenly found your mute button. I hate being treated like I’m weak and stupid. If you’d told me to follow you outside I would’ve gone, you didn’t need to try and suffocate me as I was being pulled through the mud.”
“Well, Rook,” he says as we enter my little apartment. “You are pretty weak and you do a lot of very stupid things. So”—he stops to look me in the eyes—“you can expect to be treated like a liability until we know what part you’ll play and where your loyalties lie.”
“Ha! Where my loyalties lie?” Oh, I am so angry. “That really pisses me off, you know that? I trusted you, I—”
The hand clamps over my mouth again. “No talking. Just get in the shower and I’ll wait here.” His hand is still firmly pressed against my mouth as he stares at me. “I expect an answer, Rook. So nod, or give me the sign language version of a yes, sir.”
I nod, but what I really want to do is bite his hand.
He releases me, huffs out a long breath of air, plops down on my couch and turns on a hockey game.
I go into my room and throw open my closet door, grab a clean pair of jeans, a long-sleeve white thermal, and a Shrike Rook t-shirt.
The backpack is calling my name before I even get the shirt off the hanger. I peek out my bedroom door and listen. Ford is still watching hockey and the announcer is screaming “Goal!” so I figure he’s pretty wrapped up in it. I turn the shower on and then go back to my closet.
This backpack is the only thing besides my Converse shoes that I have left from my other life.
I can’t help it, I fall to my knees and slide the drawstring cord to open it up, then check the little side pocket for the key. I took it from Jon’s office before I left. The other stuff inside is everything I need to make a quick escape. I packed it up the day I shot Jon in the knee because I figured even if I wasn’t arrested, I might still get in trouble. Maybe not from the cops, but eventually someone would come looking for me. It was a given.
And I was right. All those someones are breathing down my neck right fucking now.
Inside the bag I have twenty thousand in cash. I take the money out and flip the bills like you see people do in the movies. Twenty grand doesn’t look like much when they’re all hundreds. You’d be surprised how small it actually is when they are wrapped up in two little bundles. I’ve also got one change of clothes and some basic toiletries and the fake ID Jon made me use when we went places before I turned eighteen.