Page 390 of Devil’s Disciples

I thought of Ally, and what my life was likely to become. I’d been in a relationship before, for all the wrong reasons. Although I’d spent recent years fearing commitment, I didn’t have any regrets for taking that step with Ally.

We had far too much in common for our relationship to fail.

“Fifteen!” Tito barked.

I was a quarter of the way finished with the first cut.

Fuck.

Sweat dripped from my brow onto the wooden floor. “Cash, get this fucking smoke out of here,” I said through my teeth. “That’s why we brought the fucking fan.”

“Cash is patrolling the back yard,” Baker said.

Cash normally did the grunt work. Having him patrolling the back of the compound made about as much sense as having me pilot an aircraft.

“Well, grab the fan,” I barked. “It’s fucking hot, and I can’t breathe.”

“Quit smoking,” he retorted.

I stopped cutting. “Fan, or you can get Cash to do this. I’ll patrol the fucking yard.”

He forced a sigh. “Fine.”

The fan cleared the smoke from the room but did little to calm my nerves. With Cash’s attention span, it was highly likely he was chasing lizards instead of being on the lookout for police.

Ghost was the best driver a club could wish for. He had eyes in the back of his head, which gave him a sixth sense when it came to driving or being on patrol.

“Thirty!” Tito exclaimed.

Once again, my mind drifted to Ally. A remote island. Her in a two-piece swimsuit. Me with a cup of coffee, a bottle of beer, and a cigar a mile long.

I’d have a porch that overlooked the beach with an outdoor kitchen suitable for feeding large groups. The aroma would have the island dwellers jealous of the meals we ate.

“Forty-five!”

A few minutes later, I’d finished the cut.

“Fifty-two,” Tito said. “This is going to be a long night.”

With aching knees, I stood. Slowly. My sweat-soaked shirt clung to my arms and chest. I pulled it away from my skin and stood in front of the fan for a moment. “Get that concrete chipped away. I’m going to walk this off. That hardwood floor wreaked havoc on my knees.”

Tito looked at Baker.

Baker glared. “I’m not going to do it,” he declared. “Get busy, little man.”

“Where’s Cash when you need him?” Tito asked.

“Doing Ghost’s job,” I fumed. “Half-assed, I’m sure.”

I stepped into the massive master bedroom and paced the floor until the pain in my knees diminished.

If Tito’s estimate of our night’s proposed take was close to accurate, I’d soon forget the pain I endured. My only hope was that someone didn’t happen upon us before we’d finished the all-night project.

Unwilling to complicate matters worse, I assisted Tito in chipping away the insulation material that was sandwiched between the safe’s two layers of steel.

After an hour of pounding at the dense material with a hammer and chisel, I was exhausted. The floor was covered in debris. It looked like someone had demolished an entire driveway and dumped the remnants onto the floor.

I checked my watch. It was almost four am. If things went well, we’d be out an hour before sunrise.