Chapter One

“Spencer! Fuck, dude! Watch the f**king road!” Ronin grabs the wheel and I tap the brake to stop for the light at College and Laurel.

“Ronin, was that Ronnie back there?” I’m trying my best to check the side view to see, but it’s no use. The girl went into the restaurant. “I think that was Ronnie walking into Anna Ameci’s.”

“How unusual,” Ford replies dryly from the back of the surveillance van, “for a woman to be going into a restaurant at dinnertime.”

I check the rear view so I can talk shit to his image. “Well, that woman was with a man. A man who is not me, so uh, yeah, ass**le, it’s pretty f**king unusual for Ronnie to be having dinner with someone who is not me.”

“Since when?” Ford asks as he types away on that stupid keyboard. “I see her out with men all the time.”

“What?”

“Ford, goddammit, what’d I tell you?” Ronin interjects.

“You know about this?” I ask Ronin.

“She’s not your girlfriend, Spencer. Rook says she’s got a few other good prospects.”

“A few other… what the f**k? Since when?”

“Since you ignore her and treat her like shit,” Ford says, still tapping away.

A horn honks behind me and I look back to the road. The light is green so I move forward with the rest of traffic and then turn left on Elizabeth. “Eye on the prize, Spence,” Ronin says from the passenger seat. “Just focus on what the hell we’re doing. You can figure out what’s going on with Ronnie later.”

Yeah, easy for him to say. Fuckass. He’s got Rook at home. And hell, even Ford has a f**king girl at home. And a baby for Christ’s sake. And my best booty call is out on the town with another f**king guy!

“Turn left, turn left, Spencer!” Ronin yells. “Fuck.”

“I was gonna turn left all along, calm down, Larue.”

He shoots me a dirty look at the nickname but I don’t give a shit. I love calling his whipped ass Larue.

“Spencer, you can go home if you want to act childish. Ronin and I can do this alone.”

“Fuck off, Ford. Get your toy ready, we’re almost there.”

“I’m ready,” he says, leaning up to the front cab. He’s holding the little robot that looks a lot like a two-pound dumbbell with antennae. “Where’s he now, Ronin?”

Ronin looks down at the tablet in his hand. “Same place. At the bar, just ordered another drink.”

“So we have a little buffer then, right?” I ask. “He’s gonna nurse that thing?”

“Dunno,” Ronin says with a huff. “He’s got a shot and a beer, which means it could just be a chaser. Better get it in quick, Ford. And I swear to God, Spencer, if we get busted for this stupid shit, I will have your ass.”

“Stupid shit? This ass**le stole seven f**king bikes out of my showroom! That’s like eighty grand! It’s not some stupid shit.”

“Allegedly stole. You have no proof. And eighty grand is not worth the attention this close to the trials,” Ford replies back. “But I’m clean on this.”

Ronin laughs. “Ford, we’re using a military-grade robot to spy on Spencer’s competitor, you really think if we get caught we’re clean? Please. We’re the first people they’ll pick up.”

“Anyway… we’re here. This close enough, Ford?” I pull up a few blocks down from the warehouse that Drake Cikes calls home base. “Cikes Bikes. What the f**k is that?” I ask, pointing up to the sign near the entrance to his part of the complex. “And he just has to open up shop in Fort Collins? You know what he’s doing, don’t you? Trying to confuse people. Cikes Bikes and Shrike Bikes sound the same, and if you look us up online, he comes up Fort Collins and I come up Bellvue. People think his stupid bikes are mine! He’s getting my business and now he stole from me! Hell, I bet you anything he’s chopped up those bikes and has my f**king parts on his custom shit right now!”

“Calm down, Spencer,” Ronin says. “We don’t know any of that yet. And there’s no way anyone can mistake you for him, so just relax.”

Well, that is true. Because I’m all tatted up in black and red. I’ve got the body of a Greek god, and I own this f**king town. Drake is one of those rockabilly types, with his skinny-ass body, thick black glasses, and white t-shirts. “Thinks he’s Fonzie or something.”

“What?” Ronin asks with a weird look.

“Drake. Thinks he’s Fonzie with those white t-shirts. And him stealing my bikes is his version of jumping the shark. He’s desperate, so he’s gotta steal my shit.”

“You’re crazy, Spencer.” Ronin goes back to his tablet.

“Crazy enough to come up with this plan, yo.”

I might’ve gone too far because they’re ignoring me now.

“OK,” Ford says, “I’m gonna drop it.” He opens the back door of the van and tosses the robot out. Ronin switches feeds so he has the bot cam on one side of his tablet and Ashleigh manning the Drake cam on the other. She’s new in town and no one really knows her yet, so she was the only one who could keep an eye on the guy while we tapped his shit.

The bot’s all-terrain tires start to roll and it travels down the alley to the warehouse. The bay door is closed. We’ve been watching this place all week and it’s the same routine. Drake takes off about four-thirty and heads over to the Cat Call for dunch and a few brewskies. Then he comes back and locks the place up. We’ve looked at every possible way to get in here without resorting to the stealth and stalk we’re doing now, but the place is tight. Ford even hacked the blueprints of the building from the city, and no dice. The place was remodeled before he moved in last month and it’s like these guys are stashing guns and gold in there.