(A Rook and Ronin Spin-off) by J.A. Huss
Genre: Adult Fiction (Contemporary Romance) 18+
Expected publication: February 17,2014
Publisher: Self
A NOVELLA OF ABOUT 80 PAGESSpencer Shrike is a plotter. Known for his ingenious, albeit illegal, plans that keeps the Team running efficiently and out of jail, he carries this same love of order into his personal life. He’s kept his long-time main squeeze on the sidelines for years as he builds the Shrike Bikes empire.
Veronica Vaughn is an explosion ready to happen. Ronnie lives in the here and now. She lives for today. She knows what she wants, and she wants it now. And right now Ron the Bomb Vaughn wants Spencer shrike to leave her the hell alone. She’s done playing his game. She’s done waiting around. She’s moving forward with her own plots, plans, and dreams and she’s moving forward tonight. Ron the Bomb is finally—finally—gonna get some satisfaction.
Too bad Spencer Shrike is standing in her way.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and flop down on the couch. I press her number in my contacts and wait as the phone rings.
Voicemail. “You’ve reached Ronnie Vaughn. I’m either working or playing. If you need me for either, leave a message and I’ll get back to you!” She makes a slurpy kissing sound and then the beep.
“Hey, Ronnie. You should come over. Call me back.” I sigh again and pocket my phone, but it buzzes an incoming call before I can release it, so I pull it back out. I look at the screen. “Yello, baby! Wanna come over?”
“Oh,” she says. “It’s you. I was expecting a call from the bank. I deleted your number and didn’t recognize it, sorry.”
“What? You deleted my number? For why?” I’m stunned. Like my hand is up in the air and I’m mid-shrug with wide eyes.
“Why? Why? You have some freaking nerve, Spencer. I haven’t talked to you since Halloween!”
She’s on drugs. She might need a blood test. “I took you out for New Year’s, you hot little amnesiac.”
“No, you did not take me out. You saw me at Antoine’s. Dates pick up their girlfriends, Spencer.”
“We ate, we drank, we screwed. How is that not a date?” This is what dates usually entail.
She growls at me though the phone. “The food was free, the drinks were free, and I was too drunk to remember most of the rest, so it hardly counts. I definitely don’t recall an orgasm.”
“Ha!” I pull the phone away from my ear and find the voice memos, then push play on the one dated New Year’s.
“Ohhhh, Spencer!” Veronica wails in the recording. “Baby, yes!”
My phone does the three-beep thing that says the call ended. I laugh and call her back. It rings through again. “Ronnie, come on! It was funny, you know it was. Since when does this shit piss you off?” I stop talking. And wait. I’m not sure why, it’s a freaking voicemail, she’s not gonna respond. I frown and let out a sigh. “Well, crap. You’re mad, I guess. Sorry, Rons. Seriously. Call me back, OK?”
I end the call and slump back against the couch. It hasn’t been that long since I saw her, has it? I know we were pretty drunk on New Year’s but I spent the night with her down in Rook’s old garden apartment. What more does she want? She knows I’m busy and I’ve got shit going on. I can’t have her hanging around too much or people will think we’re together.
I can’t have people thinking we’re together.
My phone buzzes in my hand again and I look at the screen with some hope. “Arrrgh. Freaking Ford.” I press his ugly mug to answer the call. “Yeah?”
“Meet me tonight at midnight so we can take the van back over to Fonzie’s and reposition.”
“I don’t wanna go out at midnight. Can’t you just do it?”
“Spencer,” Ford says in that new parenting voice he has. “You’re worse than Kate. You’re the driver in this scheme, so drop your balls and do your job. Pick me up at my place at midnight.”
I get triple beeps again.
“God!” I slam my fist down on the coffee table. I’m just the guy everyone gets to shit on tonight.
Voicemail. “You’ve reached Ronnie Vaughn. I’m either working or playing. If you need me for either, leave a message and I’ll get back to you!” She makes a slurpy kissing sound and then the beep.
“Hey, Ronnie. You should come over. Call me back.” I sigh again and pocket my phone, but it buzzes an incoming call before I can release it, so I pull it back out. I look at the screen. “Yello, baby! Wanna come over?”
“Oh,” she says. “It’s you. I was expecting a call from the bank. I deleted your number and didn’t recognize it, sorry.”
“What? You deleted my number? For why?” I’m stunned. Like my hand is up in the air and I’m mid-shrug with wide eyes.
“Why? Why? You have some freaking nerve, Spencer. I haven’t talked to you since Halloween!”
She’s on drugs. She might need a blood test. “I took you out for New Year’s, you hot little amnesiac.”
“No, you did not take me out. You saw me at Antoine’s. Dates pick up their girlfriends, Spencer.”
“We ate, we drank, we screwed. How is that not a date?” This is what dates usually entail.
She growls at me though the phone. “The food was free, the drinks were free, and I was too drunk to remember most of the rest, so it hardly counts. I definitely don’t recall an orgasm.”
“Ha!” I pull the phone away from my ear and find the voice memos, then push play on the one dated New Year’s.
“Ohhhh, Spencer!” Veronica wails in the recording. “Baby, yes!”
My phone does the three-beep thing that says the call ended. I laugh and call her back. It rings through again. “Ronnie, come on! It was funny, you know it was. Since when does this shit piss you off?” I stop talking. And wait. I’m not sure why, it’s a freaking voicemail, she’s not gonna respond. I frown and let out a sigh. “Well, crap. You’re mad, I guess. Sorry, Rons. Seriously. Call me back, OK?”
I end the call and slump back against the couch. It hasn’t been that long since I saw her, has it? I know we were pretty drunk on New Year’s but I spent the night with her down in Rook’s old garden apartment. What more does she want? She knows I’m busy and I’ve got shit going on. I can’t have her hanging around too much or people will think we’re together.
I can’t have people thinking we’re together.
My phone buzzes in my hand again and I look at the screen with some hope. “Arrrgh. Freaking Ford.” I press his ugly mug to answer the call. “Yeah?”
“Meet me tonight at midnight so we can take the van back over to Fonzie’s and reposition.”
“I don’t wanna go out at midnight. Can’t you just do it?”
“Spencer,” Ford says in that new parenting voice he has. “You’re worse than Kate. You’re the driver in this scheme, so drop your balls and do your job. Pick me up at my place at midnight.”
I get triple beeps again.
“God!” I slam my fist down on the coffee table. I’m just the guy everyone gets to shit on tonight.
She has an undergraduate degree in horses, (yes, really–Thank you, Colorado State University) and a master’s degree in forensic toxicology from the University of Florida. She used to have a job driving around Colorado doing pretty much nothing but shooting the breeze with farmers, but now she just writes, runs the New Adult Addiction and Clean Teen Reads Book Blogs, and runs an online science classroom for homeschoolers.
Check out my interview with J.A. Huss!
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