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I'll make sure this goes perfectly, and when we get back, I can lead her away from crime, and we can settle somewhere nice with no worries. That's all I want.
He looked at her, feeling his insides hating everything. He wanted to protect her, but he also wanted her there every step of the way. He shook his head, hunting for his backpack. He had a few things they could use, but they were going to need other items. He wasn't walking into the lion's den unprepared.
"We need to get a few things. I don't want this plan going to shit and us somehow ending up dead." He heard her behind him as he rummaged around in his bag. He turned and watched her walk down the hallway.
"Where are you going? We are on a tight schedule here, Mickey."
She glared over her shoulder before she walked into her room. He zipped his backpack and followed after her. He stepped into her room, where she yanked her closet door open. He watched her as she pulled out two large silver cases.
He pinched his nose. "Mickey, we don't have time for this. What’s all that?"
She looked over her shoulder as she popped them open. She held a proud smile as she chuckled. "Everything we will ever need." She yanked the lids up, revealing state-of-the-art spyware … minuscule recorders, audio bugs, and things he had no idea about. His eyes widened as he took all of it in.
"Where … " He stopped realizing that was a dumb question. He knew where she got them. He knew that while he was in jail, Mick must’ve evolved in his theft game.
The thought that the old man continued to work without him twisted him up inside. He thought he had meant more to the bastard.
Don't be stupid. You clearly meant nothing to him. Look where you landed.
He eyed everything, hating all of it. There were spy glasses and laser pointers, even a drone. All of it made his skin crawl. He wasn't about to tell her that he had no idea how to work any of that stuff. He had a hard enough time working a cell phone, let alone knowing how to fly something with a remote.
He crossed his arms, huffing. "You think we need all that?"
She waved a hand, her smile slipping. "You said we needed stuff."
By stuff, that wasn't what he meant. He was thinking of a gun and a few hand bombs for distraction. Things he used when he had done this before. He was completely old school.
She rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue. "Jesus, they aren't bombs. They will be useful."
He pinched his nose, letting out a deep sigh. "I'm not going to argue. We don't need those. Now, can we please go?"
“Go where?” she asked.
“To get stuff.Mykind of stuff. Watch and learn.”
She sighed heavily but followed him down the stairs and into the city. In her time here, she hadn’t done any sightseeing. Her mission to right her father’s wrongs was too important. But walking with Strap was nice. The weather was nice, and the sights were so different from California.
When Strap held open the door to a bank, she glanced up at him, confused. "Why are we here?" She abruptly stopped and turned to him, tiptoeing into his face, a finger jammed into his chest. “We are not robbing a bank.”
A deep, loud laugh bellowed out of him. She scowled and backed up. “That’s classic,” he said between breaths.
"All right, nudist, calm your jets. I, at least, know how to work a mobile phone. Why are we at a bank, though?”
He rolled his eyes. "We need money for a fast car. And one not connected to us."
She scowled at him. "My neighbor’s car is fast."
"Fast for a normal person, but I need something that can hit a hundred in a few seconds."
He looked around the large bank’s interior, remembering when he first opened his account. They had remodeled since he’d last been there a little over five years ago. He hadn’t added up all his accounts in a long time, so he had no idea how much money he actually had.
Inside, he spotted the bank manager working on one of the tills. He walked over. Mickey was growing tense next to him. His panther and condor carefully watched her, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
"I'd like to withdraw some money from an account."
The manager smiled, straightening himself. "Do you have your account number?"
He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down his account number. He slid it back to the man.
