Williams looks at the other man, then back at us. “In case you don’t know, this is the attorney general, what people call the Top Cop.” He waves his hand at us. “And this, gentlemen, is the end of the line.”
“Bolt, what’s going on?” Nicoletta screams in my ear.
“Take off the masks,” the AG orders. “Nice and slow.”
“Bolt, answer me!” Nicoletta yells.
I remove my mask, shutting off my earbud at the same time. I need to stay calm, and Nicoletta’s fear is amping me up.
“I really do hope you try to resist arrest,” Williams snarls. “A great excuse to get rid of all of you.”
The AG lowers the gun a few inches as he moves closer to us. He zones in on the club logo on Smoke’s t-shirt. “You’re with the Royal Bastards,” he states.
Smoke nods. “We all are.”
The AG lowers the gun to his side and turns to Williams. “Forget it.”
“What are you talking about, forget it? These men are criminals. They’re obviously stealing from me.” Williams waves his hands around. “They humiliated me in front of hundreds. Because of them, I was arrested.”
The AG shakes his head. “The only reason I went along with this was because of the money.” He motions to the duffel bags at our feet. “But even this isn’t worth having them as enemies.”
“What are you saying?” Williams blusters. “You’re afraid of these thugs?”
“Damn right. All the chapters in California carry a lot of weight. Influence I can’t afford to ignore.”
William’s flails his hand at us. “But they’re out of Tijuana.”
“Doesn’t matter.” The AG turns toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Williams yells at his back.
“Looks like our rep outweighs yours.” Smoke steps to Clark. “So, I suggest you get the fuck out of our way.”
Smoke nods, and we hoist up the duffel bags, then head for the outside door. There’s a scuffle behind us as Williams tackles the AG from behind and wrestles the gun out of his hand.
My hand flies to the gun in my waistband. I raise it two seconds before Williams.
“Go ahead, fucker,” I taunt. “Give me a reason to blow your fuckin’ head off.”
William’s eyes are wide and wild. “Give me back my money.”
“Nah, fucker.” I back away from him. “This is Nicoletta’s money. Small fee for all the shit you put her through.”
The AG flanks Williams. “Clark, put the gun down.”
It’s enough of a distraction for us to turn and barge through the metal gate. The sound of gunshots follows us down the stone path, past the hedges as we run in a fast, low line with the bags tight against our bodies.
“Bring the car. Now!” Smoke barks into his phone.
We sprint down the side lawn and reach the curb just as Ricky is coming around the corner. The passenger door flies open, and we all jump in, flinging the bags into the cargo well, then slamming the doors behind us.
Ricky spins the car around as the entire property gleams with lights behind us. He points away from the estate and heads for the freeway.
“What the fuck was Williams doin’ there?” Diesel pants out.
“Must’ve gotten out on bail.” I glance in the side mirror. The estate's exterior floodlights flash on simultaneously, bathing Clark Williams, standing alone on the lawn, under the hard white light.
As the SUV moves through the sleeping streets of Pacific Palisades, the estate falls away behind them. In the cargo hold, five duffel bags sit in the dark, containing a condemned man's secrets and a living woman's future.
