Page 55 of Devil’s Disciples

Baker

A thunderous knock at my door was muffled by the sound of Cash’s voice shouting for me to open the door. Still high on adrenaline, but not in the mood for one of his brilliant late-night ideas, I took long strides across the living room floor and toward the commotion. Upon yanking open the door, Cash burst through it with his pistol in his hand.

He looked like he’d either seen a ghost or just finished a police lineup. Knowing neither had happened in the thirty minutes since I’d last seen him, I asked the inevitable as he stomped past me.

“What in the ten kinds of fuck is going on?” I asked, my tone low and demanding.

He turned around. The tone of his skin had transformed to a pale white. After catching his breath, he responded. “She’s here.”

“Who’s here?”

“That bitch.” He waved his pistol toward the ceiling. “She’s spying on us.”

He was on the verge of lunacy. The first thing I needed to do was get him to put down the gun. “Put down the piece, Cash.”

“I fucking…she’s…I fucking swear,” he stammered. “Goose, Ghost. They’re all gone. It’s you and me, Bake. We’ll need to do something with the body. How in the fuck are we going to get her out of there without someone seeing us?”

I had no idea where his mind was, but I wasn’t going to do anything with a body at three o’clock in the morning, nor was I interested in him accidentally shooting a round off in my concrete place of residence.

With my luck of late, the ricocheting bullet would kill us both. I had to find a way to calm him down.

“Put down the fucking piece, Cash,” I demanded. “And who are we getting out of where? You’re not making sense, Brother.”

“That mouthy bitch.” Frantic, he waved his pistol toward the ceiling again. “She’s spying on us I swear.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but the gun was making me nervous. I extended my arm. “Give me the piece. I’ll give it back as soon as we decide what we’re going to do.”

After some thought, he placed the gun on the wooden buffet beside him. He covered his face with his hands. “What are we going to do?”

“First things always come first.” I gestured toward the kitchen. “We’re going to have a drink.”

A low moan escaped him. He raked his fingers through his hair and turned away. “She’s not going to wreck this job, Bake. I won’t let her. Biggest job we’ve ever done, and she’s not going to put us in a trick bag.”

He’s completely lost his fucking mind. As I walked past the buffet, I nonchalantly grabbed his pistol and shoved it into the waist of my jeans. Once inside the kitchen, I poured two shots of tequila.

I slid one of them across the bar. “Not a word. Just drink it.”

I raised my glass and waited for him to raise his. When he did, I gave toast. “To Pat’s Gold and Jewelry.”

He wagged his eyebrows and downed the shot. As soon as his glass hit the counter, I poured it full and gave a crisp nod. “Just drink it.”

He complied, and then reached for the bottle. After downing a fourth of it in one long gulp, he lowered it to his side.

“I’m…I don’t…how the fuck did she find us?” he stammered.

“Who is she?”

He took another drink and then wiped his mouth on his bicep. “The girl from the bank.”

The two shots of tequila burned the back of my throat as my stomach rejected them. I fought to keep them down, hoping I could maintain a believable poker face, but doubted my attempt was a success.

Somehow, he’d found Andy. My mind raced to figure everything out, but all my thoughts ended up jumbled into an indiscernible wad of nothingness. The only thing I knew for certain was that I wanted her to remain safe.

I gestured toward the tequila. “What bank?”

He handed it to me. “The mouthy bitch from the job in Indio.”

I took a long pull from the bottle. I needed to figure out a way out of the mess I was in, and somehow save Andy in the process. I considered speaking, but took another drink instead.