“You were, huh?” he asks, with, like, zero enthusiasm.
Does he have to be such a dick all the time?
“Yeah, I found you a penthouse in those new condos on Mason Street? Well, they’re having an open house for the penthouse tomorrow, but I got you a private appointment tonight.” I stop talking and get silence. “If you want it.”
“Where have you been all day?” he finally says after several long seconds. “I’ve called a dozen times and it went straight to voice. You were out of area. Where were you?”
“Uh…” I scramble for my alibi. What was it? “Well, I sorta had a big day, Spence.”
“That right?” he says in that voice that tells me he thinks I’m full of shit.
“Yeah, my apartment, well, you’re never gonna believe this, but—” I stop. Because that was not the alibi. It was Rook’s doctor’s appointment. “Um, well, I’ll tell you if you want to see the condo.” Silence. He’s mad. Or suspicious. Or something. I’m suddenly so glad I’m at this place and not my old apartment, because I had nowhere to stash the bike over there. Here I’ve got it safely tucked away down in the parking garage. “So… do you? Want to see it?”
“Will you be there?”
Oh, what a dick. “Yeah, I’m the one showing it to you, remember?” Asshole, I add privately.
“The ones with the red roof?” he asks.
“Yeah, them. I’ll meet you downstairs if you’re coming.”
“Be there in five.”
And then I get the I-hung-up-on-you beeps.
Chapter Eleven
SPENCER
She sorta had a big day? She sorta had a big f**king day? That takes her incommunicado?
Yeah, f**king right.
She’s lying her ass off, that’s what she’s doing.
Ronin already called. He cornered Rook coming out of the women’s clinic. And yeah, she had a doctor’s appointment all right, but Veronica was not with her when she came out. So if Ronnie tries to tell me that shit, I’m gonna lose it.
How the f**k am I supposed to keep this woman safe if she’s about as predictable as unexploded ordinance? I figured giving her an assignment today would keep her busy, but not this busy. She is most definitely up to something.
Maybe I shouldn’t have left her wanting this morning?
Too late to worry about that. I flip the shades down, slap the half-shell helmet on my noggin, and climb on the bike. I kick it and then back out of the garage. Ryan peeks his head into the storage bay where we keep our rides to see who’s leaving, and then flashes me a little salute and disappears.
I rev the engine and take off with a squeal. The Mason Street Condos are less than a mile away, so I’m already there before I can get any more thinking time in. I pull up to the front, then back the bike along the curb and shut her down.
The condo building is brick. Brand new—they just finished this complex last summer. I look all the way up to the penthouse. It’s only eight stories tall, so it’s not like some big high-rise. But in Fort Collins, eight stories is tall. I take off my helmet, leave the shades down, and climb the steps to the building. The door opens automatically and I find myself in the foyer of a luxurious lobby.
Ronnie is waiting at a desk off to the right, which in my opinion make this place look a little bit more like a hotel than a place to live. But what the f**k do I know about luxury living? Ford’s Denver condo had a lobby too, and there was a doorman and a desk.
But that was Denver. This is FoCo.
The lighting is dim in here, so it takes me a few seconds of walking towards her to realize what she’s wearing. I stride up, my boots making a dull thud on the polished floors, and look down at her as she talks, waving her hand at the guy at the desk.
I don’t even see that guy. I see her. Wearing my f**king bike jacket. Wearing biker boots. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She’s sporting a backpack instead of a purse. She has a chipped nail on her right hand.
I completely ignore every word coming out of her mouth and grab the sleeve of her jacket. “What the f**k is this?” I ask, my eyes blazing.
Her words cease mid-sentence. “Uh…” She looks nervously at the desk guy. “You left it at my house years ago, Spencer. I’ve always had this jacket.”
I figured that much. I know I left it there. But that’s not what’s bothering me. “Why the f**k are you wearing it?”
She gives me the I’ll-get-you-back-for-this-caveman-shit-later laugh, and once more looks at the desk guy. “Spencer,” she starts calmly. “Do you mind curbing the language? We’re here to look at the penthouse.”
I glare at the desk guy. “Let’s do it, then.” I need her alone anyway. I’m not gonna get any answers out of her with this guy hanging around.
He gives me one of those disgusted sighs most people reserve for guys who look like me, then hands her the keyless remote for the condo.
Veronica reaches for it with her dainty hands. “Thank you, Charlie.” She beams at him. And then she turns and walks over to the elevators.
I give Charlie another glare, complete with eye narrowing and growling, and his eyebrows go to the ceiling in surprise. I turn and follow Ronnie, who is now holding the door open. I walk in and she clicks the remote and the penthouse button lights up as the doors close.
“I don’t like that guy. In fact, I don’t like this place.”
Veronica sighs and shakes her head, but she says nothing. We stand in silence and I get angrier by the second as I ponder the limited reasons why she might be dressed up as a biker. She’s scowling at the doors, pretending I’m not here.