Page 142 of Devil’s Disciples

“What else do we know about him?” Baker asked. “Anything noteworthy?”

Tito traced his finger over the screen, flipped through some pages, and then stopped on a screen that was covered in typed notes.

“He lives on Encino Verde Place. It’s a remote area in the city built into the side of a mountain. His home is a ten thousand square foot mansion. His net worth is unknown. He has a car collection that’d put Jay Leno’s to shame. The vehicles are registered in his name, so, he’s either bold, pretentious, or a little of both. I’m guessing value of his cars is north of thirty million. County appraisal has his home valued at five point two million. If it was in Malibu, it’d be a hundred million. I haven’t got to his claimed income yet, but I will. Not sure it’s necessary, though.”

Baker shook his head. “We don’t need it. If he’s got thirty million in cars, he’s got something in that house of value.”

“Agreed,” Tito said. “Showing up in court in a two-and-a-half-million-dollar car tells me all I need to know about how he flaunts his wealth.”

“We’ll need to find out what his schedule is like, and when he might be out of town next. Any bright ideas?” Baker asked.

Tito always had bright ideas, but he never volunteered them. He was the type of person that had to be asked to take every step along the way. He did nothing – and offered nothing – without being asked.

“I could tap into his system fairly easily and listen to his conversations,” Tito said. “Depending on what he says and when he says it, it might take a while to learn anything. I suspect sooner or later, he’ll say something.”

“Let’s do that,” Baker said.

I tossed my remaining yogurt shake into Baker’s trash can. “Little fucker should have done that before he came in here. He always does that: comes in here armed with half the information we need to make a move on someone. Then, you’ve got to ask him for more. He knows what we want, and he knows what’s needed to do a job.” I looked at Tito. “Stop being a lazy little prick.”

He set his laptop on the floor at the side of his chair. When he looked up, his eyes were thin, and he wore a stern look. “Fuck you, Cash.”

“Fuck you, Tito. You like getting your ego stroked.”

He extended his arm and raised his middle finger. “I don’t have an ego,” he said dryly.

“You’re going to have a broken finger if you don’t put that thing up,” I seethed.

“Alright, you two,” Baker said. “Enough. I don’t need to be mopping blood off this floor. Give it a rest.”

Tito broke my gaze and looked at Baker. “I’ll hack into his system tonight and start listening where I can. I’m guessing all the interior cameras have sound. If so, I’ll be able to hear everything. It will come down to what he says and when.”

“Keep me posted,” Baker said.

Tito picked up his computer. “Will do.”

Baker looked at Tito and then at me. “Either of you two got any big plans today?”

“I need to get something to eat,” I said. “And I’ve got to stop by Mission Beach and top off the chemicals.”

Tito raised his laptop. “All I’ve got is this. Why?”

“Goose called. He’s got a water leak between the meter and his house, and he can’t get a piece of equipment rented until tomorrow to dig it up. He might use some help. Reno’s got the tranny out of his Shovel, and Ghost’s trying to get his Mustang finished. You two mind giving Brother Goose a hand?” Baker looked at me. “Hell, Cash, you can stop at the blowjob queen’s place and get a hummer after you’re finished.”

“I’m done with that chick.” I glanced at Tito. “I’ll go give him a hand. I don’t need this little fucker tagging along, though.”

“Cash can go get breakfast,” Tito said. “I doubt he’d be able to keep up with my Dyna after I put that big bore kit in it, anyway.”

I glared at Tito. “Fuck you. Your Dyna’s a turd.”

He looked at me and raised both eyebrows. “Faster than that Bagger of yours.”

I stood and crossed my arms. “Ready to find out?”

He stood and crossed his. “I’m ready if you are.”

“I’ll have Goose tell me which one of you gets there first,” Baker said with a laugh. “Loser buys the beer for tomorrow night’s meeting. We’re running low.”

After the installation of a big-inch kit on the bike, I had no doubt Tito’s bike would be faster than mine. Our riding talent was equal, so if I intended on winning, I needed a competitive edge.