There was a split second where nobody moved. And then they started running for the door, all thoughts of the money abandoned. Now it was all about getting the fuck out of Dodge before the cops came in with guns blazing. Black was the first to run out. So much for that fucking loyalty shit. Pappy was last out, behind Ant.

Outside, Von had the engine running. As they all piled into the car, Black screamed at him to drive.

Tires screeched and he pulled into the fast-flowing traffic to the chorus of horns blaring as the car behind was forced to break hard to avoid a collision, only for an Econoline to ram him from behind. It was a piece of good luck, so maybe one of Black’s demons was watching over them after all. The wreck would delay pursuit, and they only needed to cover a dozen blocks to abandon the stolen vehicle and switch it for the clean car that was parked and ready for them.

For Black that counted as forward thinking. It was, as he put it, a motherfucking plan. Black had a way with words. The reality of it was they could have been taken down before even leaving the bank. On another day they could have all been dead by now.

“So how much cash did we get?” Von asked as he pulled the second car carefully into traffic. Now it was all about not standing out. They could hear the sirens, so it wouldn’t be long before the cops found the getaway car. They welcomed it; they’d be long gone by then.

Black said nothing.

Pappy could see the rage seething inside him, barely kept in check. It could have been down to the fact he’d left his face behind on the cameras, or the fact they’d walked out of the door as broke as they walked in. Pappy doubted very much that it was down to the fact Black had left someone dead on the cold stone floor.

“Come on, guys, how much? Enough for a trip to the sun? I’m ready for some of that sea, sand, sex, and shit, you know?”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Black snapped.

“Nothing,” said Pappy. “Not a fucking dime.”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Pap, I need to think.”

“Things didn’t go down the way we planned,” Ant said, as though that explained everything.


“Just leave it, Von. It didn’t work out. No sand, no sea, but give it a few minutes and you’ll feel like you’ve been well and truly fucked, so it’s all good.”

Pappy knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t waiting for tomorrow to head for Detroit. He was going tonight, cash or not. If he had to work nights in some shithole diner to see himself through college, then so be it. He wasn’t proud. And washing pots wouldn’t get him banged up for life. There was no fucking glamour in this life. Black was a dumb cunt. It was as simple and ugly as that. He’d seen enough to know the way things were going. He wanted out. That was the first smart decision he’d made since Sumner Houses. They weren’t a fucking crew anymore. So they had managed to get out, it didn’t matter; it wouldn’t take CSI geniuses to determine who’d pulled the trigger, and Pappy wasn’t about to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. If the cops didn’t get him, it was only a matter of time before Black did. That was Black’s idea of covering his tracks.

Von pulled over at the lights.

“I’m out of here,” Pappy said, climbing out of the car.

Black stared at him. He didn’t say Get back in, he didn’t say See you around. He just nodded.

“Last job,” Pappy said, slamming the door.

“No looking back, Pap,” Black responded, making a pistol with his fist and pulling the imaginary trigger.

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