Short of the absence of gold-framed pictures, the home in La Jolla had a high resemblance to the home we robbed in Encino. With each of us positioned in a different location throughout the vast space, we waited for Marvin to get home from work.

“Coming up the drive now,” Tito announced from the kitchen.

I relaxed against the burgundy velour of the chair I’d chosen, rubbing my forearms against the soft fabric of the wooden arm’s pads. “I’m ready.”

“Someone got the bedroom, to force him back to Cash?” Baker asked.

“Got it,” Ghost said.

“We good, Tito?” Baker shouted.

“Pulling in the garage,” Tito shouted in response.

“I’ve got the mudroom entrance,” Goose said.

I glanced at Reno, who was seated across from me. “Ready, Brother?”

He simply nodded once.

Standing beside the entrance that led from the living room to the kitchen, Baker’s focus was on Tito, but his hand was raised high in the air.

Five extended fingers turned to four, then three, then two, then one. His clenched fist was in perfect timing with the sound of the door opening.

The alarm beeped, no differently than if it were armed normally. Tito had disabled all interior motion, sound, and glass sensors, leaving only the door sensors and exterior cameras enabled.

The sound of Marvin disarming the alarm was followed by the heels of his shoes clacking against the hardwood floor of the entrance.

My location in the living room had a view of the kitchen, the corridor that led to the downstairs bedroom, and of the stairs that went to the upstairs bedrooms. In our initial survey of the home, we’d learned that his bedroom was downstairs.

With my pistol clenched firmly in my hand, I waited for the sound of his footsteps to stop – an indication he’d stepped onto the carpet.

Click clack.

Click clack.

Click clack.

Silence.

I drew a shallow breath and raised my pistol as the back side of him came into view. Without noticing the two men that sat in his living room, he turned toward the hallway that led to his bedroom.

“Where you going, Marvin?” I asked, my voice low and filled with bass.

He did what most everyone did when they were scared out of their wits.

He jumped three feet in the air, screamed, and took off on a dead run toward his bedroom.

Ghost stepped in front of him. “Afraid not, motherfucker.”

A shrill shriek shot from his lungs, and he turned and ran straight toward where Reno and I were seated.

I trained my pistol on his chest and shook my head. “There’s nowhere to go, Marv.”

He either didn’t believe me, or he didn’t hear me. With his feet six inches above the floor and his legs working overtime, he scurried around the corner – out of view and toward the garage – hoping to make his escape.

The unmistakable sound of him coughing up his guts let me know the MC’s new muscle had stopped him with a thunderous body punch.

“Kid hits like a mule, don’t he?” I asked into the open room, knowing he was incapable of responding.

As the sound of Marvin coughing and attempting to catch his breath echoed throughout the wooden walled home, I stood and walked into the kitchen.

Dressed in a pair of gray slacks, a bright blue dress shirt, and a dark blue tie, Marvin was rolling from side to side on the kitchen floor, clutching his gut.

I stepped on his shoulder, pinning him in place. “Remember me?” I asked.

His gaze met mine. Then, his eyes darted to Tito. Then, Baker. Eventually, they came full circle, meeting mine again.

“Where’s the money Marvin?”

He swallowed hard. “What…what money?”

“A man would think I’d enjoy the freedom I’ve been given for this little escapade, but I’m so far out of the mood, it isn’t funny.” I lifted my pistol and looked at it admiringly. “You see that thing screwed to the end of the barrel, Marvin?”

He looked at the pistol but didn’t respond.

“It’s a silencer,” I said. “It lets me fire this damned thing without making much noise to speak of. Hell, it’s not much louder than opening a door.”

His eyes darted from the pistol to me.

The weapon was a twenty-two-caliber pistol. The choice of assassins, murderers, or anyone hoping to kill someone silently with a head-shot, the gun was useless for much else. Shooting Marvin in the head would kill him in an instant. Placing one of the small bullets anywhere else would do nothing more than hurt like sheer hell, bleed, and maybe require a little surgery.

“I’m going to ask a question,” I explained, my tone without an ounce of emotion. “You can choose to answer, or you can lay there and act stupid. If you do the stupid thing, well, I’ll shoot you. That’s a promise, Marvin. I’m a man of my word, so you can bank on that. I will shoot you.”

He looked at me like I’d explained everything in Swahili.

“You ready?” I asked.

“I uh. I’m not...” he stammered.

“You’re not what?” I asked. “Ready?”

He looked at Tito, and then at me. “I don’t understand what you’re after.”

I pointed the barrel at his thigh. “Where’s Kimberly’s money?”

His mouth opened, but he didn’t respond. At least not quick enough to save his leg.

I squeezed the trigger.

Thwack!

An instant after the bullet bore into his thigh, he clutched his leg. His eyes went bug-eyed.

“You shot me!” he bellowed.

“Don’t act like I didn’t warn you, Marv.”

Tito tied a tourniquet on his leg and stuffed a kitchen rag in his mouth.

I looked at him and out a sigh. “We’re going to do this again. I’ll ask the question. Then, you can either do that dumb thing you’re so good at, or you can choose to respond. Ready?”

He nodded eagerly.

Reno leaned over, pulled the rag from Mavin’s mouth, and pointed his pistol at the leg I’d already shot.

“We’ll both shoot you this time,” Reno warned.

“Where’s Kimberly’s money?” I asked.

“There’s a safe,” he blurted. “It’s…there’s a BMW on the far side of the garage. It doesn’t… it doesn’t run. Move it, and there’s a floor safe under it. I’ll give you the combination, but not all of it’s hers. The money. Some of it’s…”

Reno stuffed the rag into Marvin’s mouth before he could finish speaking.

Without provocation, Tito and Goose turned toward the garage. After pushing the old-school BMW out of the way, Tito was in the safe within a matter of minutes.

He began handing Goose stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

Incapable of seeing in the safe, I tried to see over Tito’s shoulder. “What’s in there? Is it all there?”

“There’s stacks of ten-thousand-dollar bundles of hundred-dollar bills,” he said.

“How much was on that spreadsheet?” I asked. “From the investment place?”

“Her account had two million, three hundred sixty thousand, and change.”

I edged Goose out of the way and peered over Tito’s shoulder and into the safe. Stacks and stacks of hundred-dollars bills lined the interior of the large safe.

“Jesus.” My eyes bulged at the sight. “How much does he have in there?”

“Hard saying,” Tito responded.

After piling the ten-thousand-dollar bundles into stacks of ten, we counted the hundred-thousand-dollar bundles. Thirty-one bundles equated to three-point-one million dollars, or roughly six hundred and forty thousand more than Marvin had taken from Kimberly.

“You fellas load up the money and head out,” I said. “I’ll get this mess cleaned up with Marv.”

“Nobody’s going anywhere unless everyone goes,” Baker said from behind me. He nodded toward the open safe. “How much was in there?”

“Three-point-one mil,” Tito said. “Roughly seven-hundred-forty more than was taken.”

“My take of the extra cash goes to the girl,” Reno said.

“Ditto,” Ghost said.

“Give her mine, too,” Goose said.

“Mine, too,” Tito chimed.

“We follow the rules,” Baker said. “Club takes the club’s cut. She can have what’s left. It’ll be more than she had in the beginning.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “The rules are the rules.”

Within fifteen minutes, Reno and I worked out the details regarding Marvin’s future. The process went much easier than expected, allowing us to reach an agreement that he’d never show his face anywhere near me, the club, or Kimberly again.

If he did, his life would promptly cease to exist.

It may have been the ten pounds of plastic explosives that Reno rigged to the inside of the safe – before we welded it shut – that convinced Marv to agree so promptly.

Personally, I’d always believe it was my charm that coerced him. Either that, or my groovy new haircut.