“She wanted a foothold outside of Hollow Beach. Sent us all over the desert looking for something she could use.”
I look at the motel. One floor, exterior corridors, the kind of place that can hide a lot of cash. I find myself doing the math before I mean to. “Did she end up buying it?”
“Nah, she went in a different direction. But it did give me an idea. See that laundromat over there?” Gage waits for us to look across the street.
Cruz puffs out a breath. “Your hair,” he mutters, and I feel his fingers sweep across my neck to tuck a wayward strand over my shoulder.
“I spent a few days scouting the motel. Middle of fucking nowhere, so I had time to poke around. Got to talking with one of the night managers. She just—started telling me things. How much they pull in. How often they deposit.”
“She could’ve been lying,” Cruz says. “Trying to trap you or some shit.” But he’s already leaning forward slightly, chin angled toward the window.
Gage dips his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. So that’s why I kept coming back. I wanted to see if her story checked out.”
“And did it?” I sit up a little straighter as my heart beats a little harder, the familiar feeling I usually get when discussing possible jobs.
My eyes cut back to the laundromat. The fluorescent light behind the plate glass. The two cars in the lot.
The grin Gage sends me is infectious. My own mouth curves upward as if they’re tied together.
“Yeah, Bell, it fuckin’ did.”
“So we’re here to, what? Get five hundred pounds in quarters? I don’t know where that would even fit, man.” Cruz shakes his head, his fingers doing that fluttering thing again, only this time directly on my bare thigh.
Gage’s grin dims a little, but his eyes are still bright. He points at Cruz. “See, that’s what Bishop said too, when I tried to pitch it to him. But I’ve done the recon, man. And it all checks out. They’re sitting on thirty, forty grand?—”
“Inquarters?” Cruz asks incredulously.
I look back at the laundromat and the machines lined up behind the glass. My mind is already working, spinning and connecting dots.
And the way Gage’s brimming with anticipation—I think I know where he’s going with it.
“When’s the last time you went to a laundromat?” I turn my head toward Cruz. Our faces are too close, and I have to lean back to see him properly.
He’s already shaking his head. “Never? I don’t know. Years, I guess.”
“Okay, so you wouldn’t know that there are bill changers inside every laundromat.”
“Bingo,” Gage says, snapping his fingers and pointing at me. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
My brows rise. “That’sthe reason?”
His hand lands on my knee, covering it with warmth. “Nah, I’ve got about a hundred of ‘em.”
“My question still stands,” Cruz bites out, shifting again.
A fissure of worry worms its way through the buzzing excitement. “I can move to the back now if you’re uncomfortable or if I’m getting too heav?—”
“Absolutely not,” Cruz interrupts me, his hands clamping on my hips like he’s going to physically hold me there if he has to.
Gage clears his throat. “It’s not quarters.”
I lick my lips and pull my attention away from the way Cruz’s fingertips press into my skin. And how much I like the way it feels. How, for one second, I wondered what it would feel like if there weren't layers of fabric between us.
“What?”
“The laundromat. They use tokens, not quarters. And their bill changers—” He pauses, and something in the pause makes me look at him. He’s watching Cruz’s hands too. “They have the potential to hold tens of thousands.”
“The potential?” Cruz asks.
