BAKER (Devil's Disciples Book 1)(21)

“Five Ducatis leaving the parking lot would raise a few eyebrows. Someone would notice the truck and trailer, and then the cop would be there,” I said. “Rainbow’s a town of two thousand with a young night cop that has nothing better to do than become a hero.”

“Two thousand what?” he asked.

“People.”

“Two thousand people and a hotdog cop?”

I nodded. “Correct.”

Cash set his beer bottle on the table. “We’ll have too much weight to haul in backpacks. We need something that’ll haul the six of us and an extra thousand pounds.”

“Thousand pounds of cash?” Goose looked at Cash and then at me. “That’s what, a hundred million bucks?”

“Forty-five,” Tito said. “Twenty-two pounds a million, if it’s hundreds.”

Ghost’s eyes went wide. “The six of us, plus a thousand pounds? Or is Cash smoking weed again?”

“Thousand pounds is a possibility,” I said.

His nose wrinkled. “I thought we were robbing a shit-hole jewelry store?”

“Rumor has it that this guy might have a considerable amount of gold,” I said. “Gold bars, not rings and necklaces. Like I said, this has the potential of being a big haul.”

“I’ll talk to the guys at EAS in Anaheim. They had an X5M I was looking at. If they’ve still got it, I’ll just buy it, and we can use it. Only problem is the color.”

“What’s an X5M?” Reno asked.

“BMW SUV,” Ghost said. “It’s got a twin turbo V-8 with seven hundred horsepower. Zero to sixty in about two and a half seconds, and a top speed of a hundred and seventy. It’ll haul five of us and two thousand pounds, no problem. We’ll just need to take one bike. I say we put whatever cash we haul out of there on the bike, and the gold in the SUV. We can race back to the clubhouse.”

Ghost typically planned the escape routes, serviced our bikes, and made sure we were in good hands when it came to transportation to and from a job. His idea to use an SUV and one bike didn’t seem like a bad one.

“I like that idea,” I said. “Do you think you can get this SUV?”

“It was for sale a week ago. If they’ve still got it, I’ll get it bought. I was considering it anyway. Now, I’ve got a reason.”

“Tell me it’s not arrest me red,” I said with a laugh.

He gave an apologetic shrug.

I had a thing about using red vehicles as getaway cars, and Ghost knew it. Black, white and silver blended in better than anything. Red did the exact opposite.

He hadn’t answered me. I cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s red as fuck, Bake,” he said.

I shook my head. “Forget it.”

“Wrap it in silver vinyl,” Tito said. “Then, peel the shit off after we’re done.”

“Problem solved,” Ghost said.

Wrapping a vehicle with a vinyl film that was in complete contrast to the original color was a popular thing to do, especially in Southern California. It wasn’t uncommon to see a once silver Lamborghini that had been wrapped in neon yellow, tangerine orange, or lime green.

“Get it wrapped in something other than red. Preferably flat black. It’ll be almost invisible in the dark. If you do that, I’m okay with one bike and the SUV. We need to have Andy create a diversion on the other side of town anyway. He’ll ride the bike.”

Ghost’s eyes went thin. “Who the fuck’s Andy?”

I’d fucked up, and I knew it. Regardless, I tried to cover up the mistake. “What?”

“You said Andy,” he said. “Who the fuck’s Andy?”

I shook my head. “I said Reno.”

“You said Andy,” Reno said.

“Sure did,” Goose chimed.

I shot each of them a glare. “I said Reno.”

“Said Andy,” Cash said dryly.

“Look around the fucking room.” I spread my arms wide. “You see anyone named Andy?”

No one said a word.

“Well?” I asked.

Ten eyes stared back at me.

“That’s what I thought,” I said in a stern tone. “Reno will ride the Panigale. We’ll take the BMW, as long as the fucker’s not red. We’ll need a diversion on the far side of town, just to make sure the cop doesn’t show up. Reno, you’ll need to go up there with me and look the place over.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Got it, Bake.”

“A little more planning, and this is going to come together,” I said. “Thanks to Brother Cash, this could be our best haul to date.”

“To Brother Cash,” Ghost said.

Each of the men raised their beer bottles in toast. “To Brother Cash!”

Our club didn’t have dissention in the ranks. There were no cliques, nor was there much variance in opinion. We did bicker and fight at times, but not over anything that really mattered. We were as close as six brothers could be.

I watched as they each took a celebratory drink. The thought of lying to them about Andy churned in the pit of my stomach like a bad plate of Thai food.

It was time for me to make a change.

I simply needed to decide how to do it.