Page 116 of Tito

“Yes,” Baker said. “It sure as fuck is.”

Cash left without another word.

“What’s this cop going to do with the gun? Reno asked.

I sighed. “I have no idea.”

“Fucker’s going to hang us with it,” he replied.

“He could already hang us,” I insisted. “He’s got a picture of Baker’s tattoos, knowledge of the existence of the LLC, and knows where your C-4 came from. He has Ally’s lockpick, is aware of her being the getaway driver, and named her father by his nickname, ‘Fingers’. I’m not sure what he’s got planned, but—”

“He’s going to fuck us,” Goose said. “He’s using you to get what he needs to strengthen his case. Once it’s solid, we’re done for.”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Baker shouted. “Fucking red SUV. We never should have taken it. Should have left at 3:17. Should have listened to Tito when he said enough was enough. I deserve whatever I get.”

“Fuck that,” Goose said. “In the grand scheme of things, those cops were collateral damage.”

Baker gave Goose a crazy-eyed look. “Collateral damage?”

“Goddamned right,” Goose said. “Most of what we do is good. In our eyes, it’s for all the right reasons. Their dying is no different than a man dying while at war. A small sacrifice for to achieve the end result.”

Baker’s crazy look continued. “The end result being what?”

“Big picture?” Goose asked. “Ridding this city of scum like our old neighbor, Preston. That piece of shit poisoned half the city with the smack he sold. What about the head of the cartel? Fucking cops couldn’t have got to that piece of shit without us.” What about that drug dealer up north? When I ran by the guard gate, naked? That no good son-of-a-bitch was killing school kids. The end result is that we’ve swept up a few problems in this area, and those dead cops are a sacrifice that was made during the means in which we finance our labor.”

“I’ll think about that a while,” Baker said.

An hour passed, and then another. We discussed opinions regarding the investigation, whether we should run to another country or not, or if obtaining alternate identities was out of the question.

Another hour passed.

All efforts to contact Cash went unanswered.

Through all the fog, fear, and frustration, two things were clear.

Cash was gone.

And.

We. Were. Fucked.