Page 198 of Devil’s Disciples

Cash looked at me. “Can’t look over his shoulder. It freaks him out.”

“Each time you stop me, I have to start over,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I’m just anxious.” I motioned toward the living room. “I’ll go in there.”

“How long’s this going to take?” Jennifer shouted.

“Hard to say,” Tito responded.

I sat at Cash’s side on the couch. He reached for my bouncing knee and steadied it. “Relax. If it can be done, he’ll get it. If he can’t, nobody can.”

“They said it was turned to cash,” I said. “I seriously doubt he can find cash. John said it doesn’t leave a trail.”

“Never know,” he said. “Who the fuck’s John, anyway?”

“My father’s friend. The financial planner.”

“You have no idea who might have done this?” he asked.

“I don’t,” I said, even though I had a hunch.

My ex-husband was a finance major by trade, and an ex video-gamer who had been a computer nerd since we were kids. He had the ability to write computer code and worked for Meryl Lynch.

I had serious doubts about his ability to hack into a computer and steal my money, but then again, it sounded like he used passwords and log in information to do half the work.

“I still can’t believe this shit,” Jennifer said. “If this dick-brain gets caught, I say you let Dolla Bill loose on his ass.”

I shot her a glare. “Stop.”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Found the IP address of the computer used for the initial transfer,” Tito said. “Wasn’t easy. This guy’s no novice.”

I jumped from my seat.

He raised his hand without looking up from the screen. “Not yet. Stay where you are.”

I paced the living room floor.

Tito’s fingers slid across the keyboard without making a sound. Sixty seconds later, he grinned from ear-to-ear.

“Got the physical address of the computer used for that transfer,” he announced. “This guy’s a dumb fuck.”

I stopped in my tracks. My heart climbed into my throat. “What. What is it?” I stammered.

“Number eighteen south Camino Shores, La Jolla,” he said. “Sounds familiar?”

My entire body tensed. Then, I felt dizzy.

Cash stood. “Sounds like a high dollar neighborhood.”

“It is,” Tito said. “According to the county, the home appraises for twelve million.”

“You know the address?” Cash asked.

I steadied myself against the wall and nodded.

He clapped his hands together. “Put up your toys, Tito.”