Page 101 of Cash

THIRTY-SIX - Cash

Shortof the absence of gold-framed pictures, the home in La Jolla had a high resemblance to the home we robbed in Encino. With each of us positioned in a different location throughout the vast space, we waited for Marvin to get home from work.

“Coming up the drive now,” Tito announced from the kitchen.

I relaxed against the burgundy velour of the chair I’d chosen, rubbing my forearms against the soft fabric of the wooden arm’s pads. “I’m ready.”

“Someone got the bedroom, to force him back to Cash?” Baker asked.

“Got it,” Ghost said.

“We good, Tito?” Baker shouted.

“Pulling in the garage,” Tito shouted in response.

“I’ve got the mudroom entrance,” Goose said.

I glanced at Reno, who was seated across from me. “Ready, Brother?”

He simply nodded once.

Standing beside the entrance that led from the living room to the kitchen, Baker’s focus was on Tito, but his hand was raised high in the air.

Five extended fingers turned to four, then three, then two, then one. His clenched fist was in perfect timing with the sound of the door opening.

The alarm beeped, no differently than if it were armed normally. Tito had disabled all interior motion, sound, and glass sensors, leaving only the door sensors and exterior cameras enabled.

The sound of Marvin disarming the alarm was followed by the heels of his shoes clacking against the hardwood floor of the entrance.

My location in the living room had a view of the kitchen, the corridor that led to the downstairs bedroom, and of the stairs that went to the upstairs bedrooms. In our initial survey of the home, we’d learned that his bedroom was downstairs.

With my pistol clenched firmly in my hand, I waited for the sound of his footsteps to stop – an indication he’d stepped onto the carpet.

Click clack.

Click clack.

Click clack.

Silence.

I drew a shallow breath and raised my pistol as the back side of him came into view. Without noticing the two men that sat in his living room, he turned toward the hallway that led to his bedroom.

“Where you going, Marvin?” I asked, my voice low and filled with bass.

He did what most everyone did when they were scared out of their wits.

He jumped three feet in the air, screamed, and took off on a dead run toward his bedroom.

Ghost stepped in front of him. “Afraid not, motherfucker.”

A shrill shriek shot from his lungs, and he turned and ran straight toward where Reno and I were seated.

I trained my pistol on his chest and shook my head. “There’s nowhere to go, Marv.”

He either didn’t believe me, or he didn’t hear me. With his feet six inches above the floor and his legs working overtime, he scurried around the corner – out of view and toward the garage – hoping to make his escape.

The unmistakable sound of him coughing up his guts let me know the MC’s new muscle had stopped him with a thunderous body punch.