Page 199 of Devil’s Disciples

“He’s not there right now,” I muttered. “He’s at work.”

“You know this fucker?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s my ex.”

“Marvin?” he asked snidely. “He lives in a twelve-million-dollar house?”

It was our old home. Instead of explaining, I simply looked at Cash and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I ain’t looking to get in another jam with you over something, so I guess I need to ask.” He raised his clenched fists to chest height. “Can I whip this motherfucker’s ass?”

“Yes,” I said. “But only after you get my money back.”

He grinned. “What time does he get home?”

“Seven-ish. Maybe seven thirty.”

He looked at his watch. “That’ll be just about enough time to round up the fellas and get inside.”

“The home’s got an alarm,” I said. “You won’t be able to get in.”

Cash’s mouth twisted into a smirk. He looked at Tito. “Text a nine-one-one to the fellas. Tell ‘em to meet at that taco place off the eight-oh-five. The one with that big platter.”

“Does he have any guns in the house?” Tito asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Does he carry one?”

“No.”

Tito nodded and then began to type a text.

Cash kissed me lightly. “See you when this is over.”

“Be careful,” I said. “And don’t believe a word he tells you. He’s a pathological liar.”

“He won’t lie to me,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” he said with a sly grin. “I’ll take my lie detector test with me.”

“Oh. Wow. I’m glad you’ve got one of those.”

“Me, too,” he said with a wink. “Never leave home without it.”

78

Cash

Short of 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.