Bomb: A Day in the Life of Spencer Shrike
When I get to the truck I just sit there, trying to process what my life will be like without her around the edges. Frayed. That’s what my life will be. Even though she wasn’t in my life all the time, everything I did, everything I do, I do with her in mind. Every decision I make. Every person I spend time with. Every cent I spend. The first thing I do is ask myself, is this good for us? Will this make Ronnie and me stronger in the end? Will this make her happy?
I punch the steering wheel and my knuckles split open. “Fuck.” My phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket. “Ford,” I say. “On my way, dude.”
I hang up before he can say anything and start the truck, then I head west and cut over to Mountain Avenue. Ford lives down the street from Ronnie’s family house, in an old Victorian across from City Park.
He’s waiting on the corner of Mountain and Frey so I pull over. He’s dressed up in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, looking like a cat burglar. He pulls the door open and slides in. “Where’s the f**king van? I have shit—” He sees the case on the floor. “Well, that does not explain why you’re driving your personal vehicle while we’re doing a job, Spencer.”
“I just wanted to, Ford. No reason.” I follow the road past his house and look hard at it. “You sneaking out tonight? That tiny wife of yours cracking the whip already?”
He flashes me a sardonic glare. “Right. The f**king dogs will hear the vehicle and have a hissy fit if you came to the house at night.”
“Dogs?” I almost choke. “Since when are you an animal person?”
“I’ve always loved pets, Spencer,” he says with a grin. And then he laughs that diabolical laugh of his and growls, “Don’t be an idiot. They’re not really dogs, they’re employees. Security. I paid forty grand apiece for these f**king dogs. One wrong look at Ashleigh or Kate and they eat your face off.”
“That does not sound safe, Ford.”
“I’m half kidding. We had them trained and bonded specifically to us while we were in New Zealand. They are the best-behaved employees I’ve ever had.” He stops for a moment. “Aside from Pam, of course. I cannot allow Ash or Kate to be hurt because our past is rushing up to greet us. I wanted to send them away, but I’d go out of my mind with worry if I didn’t know where they were at all times. So I got dogs. They have service jackets, they can go anywhere a human can and they are trained to work as a team. One dog attacking you is frightening, two are formidable.”
“I’d just give her a gun, Ford. Quicker and no shit to clean up.”
“She has a gun, Spencer. But when you’ve got a baby in your arms, a gun is not practical.”
“Security guard?”
“I have those too, but they need to stay hidden. Ashleigh has no idea what we’re really into, Spencer, so keep your f**king mouth shut. I’ve got it all under control. We’ve moved into a normal house and I want them to have a normal life.”
“Nice house, by the way. How the hell did you get all that shit organized from New Zealand? You’ve only been back for like three days.”
“Pam.”
“That personal assistant chick? Must be nice, eh? Have her to take care of things for you.”
“It is, Spence. You know the Biker Channel wants you to get one, right? They’ve been hounding me about it for weeks. They say you hardly ever answer their calls and ignore the emails completely. You should just hire someone to take care of that shit.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe I should. I could use the help. How close do you need me to be, Ford?” I hang a right on Elizabeth and then cut up north to where Drake’s shop is.
“Just about the same place we were before. I didn’t get the long-range option for this bot. That model was out of stock.” He pulls the case up from the floor, keys in his passcode to disengage the locks, and then pops it open. When I glance over he’s got a tablet in there and some smaller things tucked away in a bulging pocket on the inside of the lid. He fires up the tablet and then accesses some app on the home screen that controls the bot. A camera pops up in a new window, but the image is black.
“Night vision is standard,” Ford says. Like I was actually wondering how much he pays for the f**king robot add-ons. “OK, here we go.” The bot screen flashes green, and then some details start to emerge. “We’re under a workbench, I think. Hold on, let me look around a little and see if this is acceptable. You might have to tell me where a good place will be, Spencer. A place that’s in plain view, but not near something he needs every day. I don’t mind losing the money I paid for this should things go bad. But I certainly don’t want this bot in the hands of that stupid f**k Drake. He will blab all over about it and even though I had Merc cover my tracks, Homeland will be called in and they will immediately know it was me. I’m already on a list for hacking.”
I wince. We’re doing this job because I asked for it. “Maybe we should just pull it, then, Ford? Maybe I should just eat the money and drop it. He won’t last, I’m not really worried about him taking my business, I’m just excitable. I’m an artist. People buy my bikes because I made them. And he’s not me.”
Ford just stares at me. “Who are you?”
“I’m serious, Ford. Let’s just come back tomorrow and—” A knock on the glass stops me cold and Ford’s eyes dart to the window behind me. “Please tell me that’s not the pigs,” I say without turning my head to look.