The road to Owen’s house is rugged and bumpy. He lives in a small place he bought for next to nothing despite having enough cash to move downtown, which is an idea I’ve pushed more than once.

But today the loose gravel feels worse than usual, if that’s even possible. The potholes are bigger though, that’s for damn sure.

Why do people live on private roads anyway?

I understand the desire for seclusion, but I live away from visible neighbors and it doesn’t require a road out of the middle ages. The human species learned how to pave for a reason.

My eyes flick down to the newspaper sitting on the passenger seat, reviving the anger that’s been brewing in my gut all morning.

It’s Wednesday—my day to work the gallery, but I got Ben to cover for me. It’s been four days since my conversation with Cliff and I’ve intentionally avoided calling Owen. But it’s time to talk.

As my eyes trace the paper’s headline, my foot presses harder into the pedal and I twist my clammy palms on the steering wheel. There’s a sudden blare of a car horn and I lift my eyes just in time to swerve out of the way of an oncoming sedan.

An arm with a raised middle finger extends out the window, but I don’t have the urge to respond. I tap my brake instead. The road is really only big enough for one-and-a-half cars and I’m driving fast enough to tear the dirt behind me into thick clouds of dust. But I have bigger things on my mind.

This situation is getting out of control.

We’ve never had a mishap like Thursday. And Thursday wasn’t our fault, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’ve gathered an unworkable level of attention from the Feds. Add that to Cliff’s insistent greed, and we’re about to crash and burn.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t include Sophia in the mix. I have absolutely no desire to bring her to Owen’s attention, but she’s still a factor in this. Over the last five days I’ve thought more about her than Thursday’s incident.

She’s a slice of heaven, but she’s also a cop. And as much as it should—that doesn’t make me want her any less.

She may be a cop, but she’s also the first person to fill the emptiness that’s enveloped me for over a decade. The dark void that’s grown in my chest over the last year. She’s the first authentic connection I’ve ever felt. And severing that connection might’ve been necessary for our operation, but it’s starting to feel like I’m severing the only thing that can pull me out of the void.

I’ve regained my speed when I drift into Owen’s driveway. It’s been awhile, but his house looks unchanged. It has the same peeling blue paint and leftward lean to it. The setting looks like something pulled straight out of a nineties horror flick, all except for the fire red ’69 Mustang parked out-front.

It’s not until I’m parked that Owen gets up from under the car. I roll down my window.

“Hey man, you caught me under my axel,” he says, punctuating it with a boy-like grin.

“Is there anything left to do to her anymore?”

“Oh, plenty.” He rests his arm in my open windowsill. “I haven’t actually done much at all. She’s almost all stock. I don’t touch her unless she asks me.”

Again with the young-boy smile.

I nod in agreement and open my door. “Well kiss her goodbye for awhile. We need to talk.”

“You should have called, I would’ve met you in town.”

“I thought I’d make the trip,” I say, stepping out and handing him the newspaper. “Take a look at the second page.”

It takes him a second to scan it over, his mouth gradually gaping open.

“You ever made the paper before?” I ask.

Without making a sound, he turns it to show me the words I’ve already read a hundred times.

“Armed robbers strike again, adding yet another bank to their list of successful heists,” he reads out loud. “However, the duo’s most recent raid was not without a challenging escape. Federal Authorities have been cooperating with local law enforcement, and believe they are narrowing in on…” He trails off and his eyes find mine. “How do they know it’s us?”

“Because it’s always us.”

Silently, his eyes run down the next few lines. He flicks the middle of the page where we’re captured on a black and white security picture entering Independence Bank in our masks.

“Picture doesn’t give us away.”

“That means nothing,” I say. “They don’t need our identities. All they need to do is wait, and that’s exactly what they’re doing.”

Owen has on a blank stare but I can see the wheels turning in his eyes. I let a moment pass before suggesting that we go inside. He nods, quietly leading the way to his kitchen table.

“Has Cliff seen the paper?” he asks after taking a seat.

“Probably. He sees everything, it’s his job.” I pause. “And that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“About Cliff?” His question is laced with relief and it irks my stomach. “You think he’ll be able to shove this under the rug?” he asks.

“No.” I flick the paper. “Not with this.”

“Why not? He’s got—”

“We’re done relying on him.”

That catches him by surprise. “Did something happen?”

“You mean outside of almost going to prison last Thursday?”

Owen cocks his head in acknowledgment. “Without Cliff, we might’ve,” he says. Which isn’t true.

Even if Cliff did manage to delay the Feds’ response, we’d be in prison if we hadn’t left when we did.

I rub the back of my neck and draw in a long breath.

“The walls are closing in, Owen.” I pause for emphasis, looking up at him. “Don’t you ever feel trapped in all of this? The path we’re on doesn’t end with a finish line. It ends in flames. I can’t do this forever, neither of us can.”

“No, but that’s not our plan, is it?” Owen leans back in his chair. “We’ll get what we can and get out before the path ends.”

“When?”

His chest inflates and he shrugs as he exhales. “I don’t think that’s my place to say.” He leans forward. “I haven’t forgotten why you’re doing this. It’s not the same for me. It doesn’t hurt me any if you and Cliff were to end all this today. But I’m also committed to hitting as many more spots as we can. Or as you need.”

I nod, letting a long moment pass in silence.

“I’ll never stop helping that kid,” I say. “But I’m not going to let you go down because of Grayson. He’s my nephew, my responsibility, and what I risk for him should be my risk. No one else’s.”

“Well I’m here.” He shrugs again. “I’m in it. And I’m also not doing this for free. My choices are my choices too. Hell knows what else I’d be doing right now.”

“I know. And I’ll never be able to repay you for this last year, you know that. But listen.” Now I’m the one holding Owen in a stare. I shake my head. “This situation is an hourglass and I’m worried that nothing’s going to change until the sand runs out and we’re both fucked.”

“That’s where Cliff is our advantage.” He picks up the newspaper and holds it in the air. “I know he’s an asshole, but he’s the reason we aren’t already fucked. And if we ever got caught than he’d be fucked too. He knows that,” he says, dropping the paper.

“That’s not how he thinks.”

Owen’s lips purse but flatten again in silence.

“He’ll pull the strings for us as long as he’s getting a cut of the profit,” I say. “But believe me, the fucking second that shit hits the fan, he’s gone and any chance of us getting out of this is gone with him.”

Owen’s eyebrows rise into his forehead. “You really think so?” he asks with noticeable uncertainty in his voice. “I mean, you guys have a history. At least in your family. How could he do that?”

“Cliff’s never had out best intentions in mind, Owen,” I say soberly. “Neither of us. He has money in mind. Money and control. First it was my brother, now it’s us. We’re disposable puppets to him. He’ll pull the strings as long as the money’s coming in, but as soon as that’s done, we are too.”

Owen nods, no longer wearing the lighthearted demeanor he’d had on outside. He’s always seemed to me like two different people: Owen, and the guy that robs banks. When we put on our masks it’s like he also puts on a mask of focused intensity. But that same focus is in his eyes now, and I’m not going to waste it.

“Let me ask you a question,” I say. “What’s the headline going to say next time? Dangerous Bank Thieves Finally Apprehended? Infamous Bank Thieves Now in Prison? You know how they think. They have our scent and they’re not going to let it go until we’re on the front page.”

He removes his hat, raking his fingers through his hair before putting it back on. “Okay,” he says, fixing me in an earnest stare. “I want you to know that I believe in our system enough to go on. But I came into this with you and I’m going to leave with you. When you’re done, then so am I.”

There’s a beat of silence as fervent determination swells in my chest.

“All right,” I say, “we’re done.”

Owen’s expression perks. I pause to give him a chance to speak, but he doesn’t.

“Our control over this is slipping away and I’m not going to let it slip any further,” I add. “We’re done.”

Owen still doesn’t answer at first, just nods. “And what about Cliff?” he asks.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle him as long as you and I are on the same page. We’re done.”

Owen nods again. Not his young-boy nod, but his intently focused bank-robber nod.

“Absolutely.” He reaches to for a handshake and I take his hand firmly in mine.

“I’ll handle Cliff,” I repeat in a whisper.