BAKER (Devil's Disciples Book 1)(7)

“How the fuck would I know? All I know is that Pat paid him four hundred fifty grand for it.” He arched an eyebrow. “In cash.”

He’d garnered my interest. All of it. “You’re telling me he keeps that kind of cash on hand?”

“I’m telling you what I know.” He extended his index finger. “He’s gettin’ a new alarm.” He raised his middle finger. “And, he paid One-eyed Pete damned near half a million in cash.”

“Any word on why he’s getting a new alarm?”

“Told Pete he’s gettin’ some state of the art system. He keeps all his shit in a vault, and doesn’t have a safe. He’s gettin’ one at the same time he gets that alarm. Sounds like he’s gettin’ nervous that someone might break in one day.” He shook his head. “The dumb fuck just offered that up while Pete was in there.”

“When’s he getting the new alarm?”

“Not sure. I told you what I know.”

If Cash was right, the take from the job could easily be in the millions. The thought of it filled me with nervous energy. I needed to calm down, devise a way to disable the alarm, and develop a plan to rid Pat’s Gold and Diamond Exchange of its wealth.

“Reno and Goose are downstairs pulling the motor out of Goose’s Shovel,” I said. “Tito’s supposed to be here in an hour or two. When he shows up, bring him up here. We’ll see what we can figure out with the alarm.”

“So, you’re interested?”

“Fuck yes, I’m interested.”

The ear to ear grin returned. “Headache’s gone, huh?”

Miraculously, it was. I nodded. “It is.”

“I’ll holler at ya when Tito makes it in.” He stood and turned toward the door. “You should really try whacking off, though. Do it while you’re staring out that window of yours.”

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I whack off twice a day. Can’t remember the last time I had a headache.”

“I doubt there’s a correlation.”

He shrugged as he turned toward the door. “Never know.”

Anxious about Pat’s Gold and Diamond Exchange, I went to the window and peered down at the street. As I gazed blankly at the morning traffic, Ray Lamontagne’s Jolene played softly over the sound system. Like Ray Lamontagne, I needed something to hold onto, I just wasn’t sure what it was.

I’d solved countless problems staring out at the San Diego skyline, but by no means all of them. The window was my place of refuge, and the men knew it. When I was there, I was off-limits.

As the song ended, my eyes came into focus. At that same instant, a woman on a bicycle rolled to a stop at the bike rack by the corner. After locking her bike to the rack, she removed her sneakers, put them in her purse, and slipped on a pair of dress shoes.

From my vantage point, she looked cute – and had a fabulous ass – but I had yet to see her entire face.

She removed something from her purse, gathered her hair in her hands, and then looked right at me as she pinned it into place.

Oh, my fucking God.

Her hair was a few shades lighter, but there was no denying who she was. My stomach twisted into a knot. Frozen, I stared back at her in sheer disbelief. It had been six months since I’d last seen her, but I never forgot the faces of our club’s victims.

I took a quick step away from the window, blinked my eyes a few times, and then leaned forward.

The sidewalk was empty.

I hoped that my migraines were causing me to hallucinate. I stumbled to my desk, sat down, and pressed the tips of my fingers against my temples.

The odds of it being her were astronomical.

If it was her, I had more problems than I was ready to admit. The first of which was making sure Cash didn’t see her before I figured out a way to get rid of her.





FOUR - Andy





Moving from my apartment in Indio to my cousin’s home in San Diego was embarrassing at first. I now viewed it as a godsend.

To many in Southern California, riding a bicycle was a way of life. Throughout my job search in Indio, it was belittling. Each block I pedaled through, it seemed people turned and stared. Their glares and gestures stood as a constant reminder that I’d been fired, couldn’t find a replacement job, and was one of the city’s population that assembled California’s five percent unemployment rate.

Thrust into the melting pot of San Diego’s Prius and Tesla driving millions, however, I became invisible. I was simply another eco-friendly traveler.

I locked my bike to the rack and debated what to do with my hair. While clipping it into a managerial messy bun, I tilted my head back for one last look at San Diego’s clear blue sky before I entered the building.

Sweet fucking Jesus.

Sex on a stick was peering out of the third story window directly above me. It only took an instant to realize he was tattooed, wore an awesome beard, and was handsome as hell. Paralyzed by the thought of the sexual journey he and I could take together, I stared back at him with an open mouth.

He rubbed his tattooed fingers against his temples and turned away.

As fate would have it, the building he was in adjoined my new place of employ. The series of buildings were joined in a lengthy line of three-story businesses that extended the length of the block. Each had a different address, but they were all part of the same complex.