Spencer smiles. “Yeah, that one’s called The Team.” He leans back on the couch and looks over at me. “That’s what the four of us are now, you know that, right? We’re a team.”

And my thoughts flood back to me. The day I met Ford and we all went to dinner to celebrate our partnership at that French restaurant. That’s what I thought about Ronin and me that day. That we were a team. “I’m a lucky girl, Spencer Shrike. Because this is one special team and I’m honored to be on it. I just hope I can live up your greatness and not disappoint you.”

He chuckles. “Shit, Rook, we’re still floored that you put up with us at all. And Ford? You seriously deserve a fat cash bonus for mellowing that asshole out.” We sit in silence as I flip the page of the book. The second picture is of cyborg sex-kitten Rook and Terminator Ronin. “That’s Ronin’s favorite,” Spence says softly.

“I love this one too. I was so sad that day and Ford read to me and then Ronin and I had a very serious conversation about my past in the shower.” I look up at Spencer to see if he knows about this, but if he does, he holds it in.

I flip the page again. This time I’m the catwoman. “That’s Antoine’s favorite,” Spencer adds as he flips to the next page. “And this one is Ford’s.” The fourth image is me in the white bikini. “Because he said you started growing a backbone that day.”

A laugh busts out of me unexpectedly. “Fucking Ford.”

Spencer leans in and puts his arm around me, then kisses me on the head. “You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. Whenever you need it. OK?”

I look up and the tears are starting again. “Ronin called you?”

Spence nods. “Yeah, and it’s gonna be OK, Rook. I’m not sure what’s going on with you or whatever. But it’s gonna work out.”

All the tears spill out now and I shake my head. “I’m not so sure, Spencer,” I whisper. “I’m really not so sure. There’s so much more about my past than I’ve told you guys. I have so much locked away inside.”

He just lets me cry and holds me close as he continues to turn the pages of the book, commenting on each outfit until I’m calm again.

Spencer Shrike is a good guy. I feel it in my heart. He’s so calm and understanding. Nothing much fazes him. Spencer Shrike screams strength.

And we’re a team, he said. It doesn’t have to be me against the world.

Because I’m part of the team. 

I pull Clare aside as Roger dismisses today’s models for lunch. “I need to talk to you, Clare. Wanna have lunch with me upstairs?”

She winds her arm around mine and smiles brightly. “Absolutely!”

We walk up to my apartment together and I usher her in after I open the door. “Rook made some pasta yesterday. Want some of that? Or I have cheese and stuff.”

“Rook doesn’t look like the domestic type. I’m surprised she even knows how to cook pasta.”

I close the fridge and turn around. “See, that’s pretty much what I have to talk about. This animosity you have for Rook has to stop. I love this girl, Clare. I’m not breaking up with her, she’s not breaking up with me, we’re gonna get married and live out all that happily-ever-after bullshit. Because she’s the one. You need to stop talking shit about her.”

I expect a total capitulation, but she hands me a shrug. “I don’t believe you, Ronin.”

I laugh, seriously let out a total guffaw. “Which part is giving you trouble then? I’ll try to be clearer.”

“The part where you think Rook is sticking around. Everyone talks about her, ya know. All the Chaput models have filled me in on how things went when she got there. Even some of the photographers think she’s got one foot out the door.”

I can only shake my head at her brazen audacity. “Clare, listen to me very carefully, OK? Shut the fuck up about Rook. I do not give one shit what you think about my relationship with her. It’s none of your goddamned business. And if I fucking even get a whiff that you’re being nasty to her, or telling her shit about photoshoots, present ones or otherwise, I’ll fire you from this contract so fucking fast your head will spin.”

She laughs. “You couldn’t fire me, Ronin. The GIDGET people want me. They’d be pissed.”

“You must be under the impression that I give a fuck what those people want. I don’t. I bid on this contract because it was a challenge, not because I need the fucking money. And I’ll tell you something right now. I’ll throw it all away, pay off every fucking model, every fucking photographer, and every fucking crew member and walk away in a second. This job is a commitment I chose to fulfill because it looked fun, and nothing else.”

The shock on her face starts somewhere in the middle of my speech and by the time I’m done she looks ready to cry. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

“Mean? Fuck, girl. I’ve done nothing but help your ass for months. The least you can do is be fucking cordial to the woman I love.”

“Ronin! I’ve always had your back, you know that. We’ve always been tight.”

“We’ve always been friends, nothing more. So what’s with all this new relationship shit?”

“I just think she’s unpredictable and she’s gonna end up hurting you, I can feel it.”

“Well, look, Clare. I’m a big fucking boy, OK? If she does take off, you can rest assured that I can handle it. She’s not gonna, by the way. She won’t.” My phone buzzes and I take it out of my pocket and check the message. “Someone’s here to see me, so is this all clear, then?” Her look is defiant but she keeps silent as she nods her head. “Good, then let’s go.”

We walk back downstairs and as soon I spot my visitor near the front door I know what’s up.

FBI is back.

Fuck.

I don’t look at Clare but I know she knows what’s up too. I just hope our little moment doesn’t come back to haunt me in the form of her talking to the fucker in the black suit when I’m not looking. I straighten up my back and head over to him. “Mr…” I trail off like I forgot his name.

“Abelli,” he adds to my silence. “Agent Abelli.”

“Right, I knew that.” I smile at him. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, Mr. Flynn, we’ve been noticing some discrepancies in your statement to the Denver police and we’d like you to come down to the station and take a polygraph. Do you think you could oblige us with that?”

Aaaaannnd… game starts now.

I widen my smile. “Oh, absolutely. I’d be more than happy to.” I grab my leather jacket from a hook near the door and wave him out of the studio. “I’ll meet you down there.”

“Actually, my partner dropped me off, so if I could catch a ride with you, that’d be great.”

“No problem. What’d he do, go grab some donuts?”

Abelli laughs but the tension lines on his face tell me it’s forced. “No, he just needed to get back to the station and set up the machine.”

“Just messing with ya, dude. I know you’re not really donut eaters.”

He shuts up after that and I just unlock the doors to my truck and we both slide in. The drive down to the station only takes a few minutes since it’s mid-morning and traffic is light, but it feels like an eternity as we sit and listen to the radio. What the fuck could this be about? It can’t be Jon. I had nothing to do with any of the hacking. And Rook would’ve called me if they had Ford in custody, even if Spencer wouldn’t. No, it’s not about Jon. I didn’t even really have to lie when I gave my statement. The only thing not true was the text message. And even so, it was present and legit by the time the cops checked the phone.

No, this isn’t about that asshole, but beyond that I have no other info. But I will. Because they’re fishing for answers with this polygraph, which means they have to tip their hand with the questions they ask.

Well, bring it on. Because as Spencer said last summer when he was painting Rook, everyone has one God-given gift.