After giving Tito my account number and the name of the institution where the money had been held, I waited anxiously for him to tell us anything. He gave no assurances that he could find out where it went, but Cash swore there was nothing beyond his grasp.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a small Microsoft Surface Pro tablet, his fingers worked the keys like a concert pianist. Interested in the jumbled mess of letters and numbers that scurried across the laptop’s screen, I tip-toed toward the table and came to a stop a few feet behind him.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Cash!”

From the living room couch, Cash responded. “What, Brother?”

“Get her out of here.”

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.”

“He’s not there right now,” I muttered. “He’s at work.”

“You know this fucker?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s my ex.”

“Marvin?” he asked snidely. “He lives in a twelve-million-dollar house?”

It was our old home. Instead of explaining, I simply looked at Cash and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I ain’t looking to get in another jam with you over something, so I guess I need to ask.” He raised his clenched fists to chest height. “Can I whip this motherfucker’s ass?”

“Yes,” I said. “But only after you get my money back.”

He grinned. “What time does he get home?”

“Seven-ish. Maybe seven thirty.”

He looked at his watch. “That’ll be just about enough time to round up the fellas and get inside.”

“The home’s got an alarm,” I said. “You won’t be able to get in.”

Cash’s mouth twisted into a smirk. He looked at Tito. “Text a nine-one-one to the fellas. Tell ‘em to meet at that taco place off the eight-oh-five. The one with that big platter.”

“Does he have any guns in the house?” Tito asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Does he carry one?”

“No.”

Tito nodded and then began to type a text.

Cash kissed me lightly. “See you when this is over.”

“Be careful,” I said. “And don’t believe a word he tells you. He’s a pathological liar.”

“He won’t lie to me,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” he said with a sly grin. “I’ll take my lie detector test with me.”

“Oh. Wow. I’m glad you’ve got one of those.”

“Me, too,” he said with a wink. “Never leave home without it.”