Fast Cars (Working Title)

Chapter 15

Donovan rolled his shoulders as he stood by the car. It'd been weeks since he'd had to go out on a job. "Come on. Come on."

He paced toward the back of the car then back to the front. The idling engine purred as if to sooth him. He glimpsed movement at the corner and leaned to see if it was the cops or the guys. His grin widened as the men ran toward him, their bags bulging. A few bills fluttered behind them as they ran.

Don jumped in the car and revved the engine. The car rolled forward as the doors closed. As soon as the latches clicked, Don pressed the pedal to the floor and the machine leapt into traffic. Tires squealed behind them as they raced away. Hoots and cheers filled the car.

"We did it! Christian is gonna be happy with this take."

Don grinned. Wind whipped past the car as they sailed into the parking garage.

"Why we here, Don?"

"Gotta make sure there's not a paint bomb or a tracker. Gimme the bags."

Don stepped away from the car and put the bags on the ground before he attached a string to the zippers. He took a step back and yanked.

"Does that mean that nothing's in there?" Sam asked.

Don shrugged. "Dunno. Give me a minute." He nudged the bag with his toe then kicked it hard. An ear splitting alarm echoed through the structure. Don cursed. "Get the other bags."

He flipped the bags upside down and emptied the contents onto the pavement. He worked through the pile for a moment before kicking the offending noisemaker aside. "Scoop up the rest and lets get going."

"Why?"

"It's a transponder. Move!"

Booted feet rushed to gather the cash. Don moved to another vehicle and jumped inside, leaving the other car idling. The men jumped in. Don tossed a bag into the back seat. "Change your shirts and look calm no matter what."

He eased the car from the lot and merged with traffic. He waited for the light to change then watched as police cars careened down the street and into the parking garage. He waited for a moment before he proceeded through the light and out of the neighborhood.

"How'd you know?"

Don chuckled. "I've seen those before. Nothing happens until you really jostle the contents. The police are tracking the device the whole time. Once you play with the money, you're screwed. Most people wait til they get to where they're going to dump it out and play with it." He shook his head. "Bank Robbery 101."

"How were you so calm at the light?"

"We switched cars. They were looking for the maroon Olds. Not my silver Chevy. We look interested, but fairly calm and we're golden. Panic and race away and we look guilty."

Don's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID before answering. "Yeah?"

"Was that you? Were you driving the getaway car?"

Don grinned. "Yeah. We'll be there in just a minute."

"You're pushing it, Don."

"I know." He hung up the phone and turned a corner. The warehouse came into view moments before Don pushed a button and the door opened. He pulled inside and closed the door. His eyes searched the large room for Maisy and breathed a sigh of relief when he found her along one wall, Jax sitting in front of her. A checkered cloth dangled from his jaws.

Don stepped toward the and raised an eyebrow. "Trouble?"

Maisy shrugged. "Nothing Jax couldn't handle."