Smash & Grab (28 page)

“I need an intervention,”
I say to Whitney and Elena as we enter the parking garage near the Bloc outdoor shopping plaza. I glance at the little booth farther down, where the sole security guard is housed, to make sure he's still looking down at his cell phone. He is. We're doing just fine so far. Our mission is to snag a decent getaway car for Monday. Cue the
Mission: Impossible
music. Except the only thing set to destruct around here is me. The closer we get to the job, the more I can feel myself starting to panic.

“For what?” Elena asks.

“I've gone and kissed him. Twice.” I don't have to say who
him
is. They both know.

“Ah ha ha, I knew you would! Go get it, Catherine!” she says, nearly clapping her hands. “How was it? Is he Thomas Crown–worthy?”

“Dangerous,” I say. “And, yeah, he's definitely Crown-worthy.” I can feel myself blushing, so I get busy pulling on my gloves and double-checking my pack to make sure I brought everything we'll need.

The twins do a silent squeal and quietly high-five each other.

“Don't celebrate. This is screwed up,” I say. “How am I supposed to like a guy I can't trust? Who says he won't try to pin it on us? I'd do it to him. I won't jeopardize us for a guy.”

“Cut the crap—you won't double cross him,” Elena says.

“I would,” I insist.

We walk past the elevators and go deeper into the garage. There's a shadowy area toward the far corner with a couple of cars that look promising.

Whitney grabs my arm and spins me around. “Hey. I know you. You try hard to put up this front like you're coldhearted, like no guy can get close to you, but that's a lie. Can you trust Christian? I don't know. Risk is always involved, Lex. But what's the alternative? Never fall in love?”

And this is maybe the best thing about having friends like Whitney and Elena. They push me to face my fears. Still, I can't shake this free-fall feeling in my gut. I've had it ever since that first kiss out on the sidewalk by the bank. And it terrifies me because the thing about falling is that sooner or later you are going to hit the ground.

“So which one?” Whitney asks, deliberately changing the subject because she must realize how tense I am.

Both girls eyeball me like I have some kind of sixth sense about what car we should try to take. I don't. They all look the same to me, which is to say they look locked and intimidating, nestled in their parking spots, their windows dark and their engines quiet, like mousetraps set to snap at the slightest touch, taking fingers when they do.

Whitney pulls out her phone and consults the website she already has queued up, the one that gives a step-by-step guide to breaking into cars. Christian gave us a tutorial back at the beach house, but I like having the information at the ready just in case. God bless YouTube. The only way it could be better is if the information downloaded directly to your brain
Matrix
-style. “First we need to check for hidden keys—on tires, tucked into magnetized boxes stuck to the underside of the cars. Oh, and don't forget to just try opening them.”

We trot in between the cars, stopping to look for keys, try doors, peer in windows. Row after row and no keys, no unlocked doors. Either we're in a particularly cynical neighborhood or that information is mostly wishful thinking. Maybe it's even a trap to catch amateurs. I glance around the parking garage, nervous now, feeling watched. Of course, we could be. I didn't see any security cameras, and we picked this lot specifically because there aren't supposed to be any, but that doesn't mean they aren't there.

“The kit, gimme the kit,” I say to Elena as calmly as I can, but my heart is a pogo stick in my chest, leaping up and down against my ribs.

I take the tow kit from her and start pulling out the tools: a wedge to jimmy the door open and a sticklike thing to unlock the lock once I do. We've been practicing at home on our own cars, all three of us, timing ourselves to see how quickly we could get in. After more than fifty tries, we're down to less than a minute each. It only occurs to me now that we didn't rotate around and practice on each other's cars, not just our own. Basically, unless I spot my parents' BMW sedan in one of the rows, I might be in trouble here.

We walk up and down the rows once more, this time looking for a car similar to the ones we practiced on and when that fails, one that's old enough not to seem intimidating. After discussing a few, we settle on a nondescript white Toyota Corolla with a set of multicolored bead necklaces hanging from the rearview mirror and a bumper sticker that reads
SOMETIMES I WRESTLE WITH MY DEMONS. SOMETIMES WE JUST SNUGGLE
. It's the perfect combination of ordinary and old.

“Okay, this one, then,” I say as I examine the passenger side door for the best spot to place the wedge.

“Wait. Why do you get to do it?” Elena asks.

“Because…” I can't think of a good reason.

“If we're doing the driving, we're doing the breaking in—or at least I am.” Elena holds out her hand for the wedge.

“You brought us on to help, so let us help,” Whitney says.

I hesitate, not because they don't make sense, but because I'm not ashamed to admit that I like to be in control. I'm less nervous that way.

“Give it up, Lex,” Elena says. “God, it's so insulting when you hesitate, like you're the only person capable of taking care of things.”

“Fine. Here.” I hand her the tools. Now all I want to do is get out of here. “Just hurry.”

“Hey,
fast
is my middle name, okay?” Elena says, then freezes. “Wait, that came out so wrong.”

Whitney and I crack up, and Elena smiles. “Cut it out or I won't be able to do this.” She gets to work, placing the wedge and then working it back and forth until the doorframe is warped. She slides the tool that unlocks the lock into the space the wedge created. I watch it wobble through the car's interior, down to the armrest on the door. It takes her multiple tries to get the thing positioned directly above the button that unlocks the car. One, two, three, four times she misses. Five excruciating minutes later, she finally lines everything up and presses the button. There's a clicking sound as the tool hits the button dead center. All the doors unlock, and then she's opening the driver's side door and slipping into the seat.

I look down the length of the garage to make sure we're still clear, my ears straining to hear the slightest noise, my skin tingling with the effort. It's dim, and every shadowy patch has me concerned. Could someone be watching us? I walk to the end of the row and peek over at the elevator. No one's there, nothing's changed. So far we're okay. Still, when a tractor-trailer truck whizzes past the garage, I can't help startling. The sooner we're out of here and on the freeway, the better. The whole plan could fall apart right here.

“Hey, wake up, Lex. Hand me the computer thingy.” Elena leans out of the car to get my attention. The wedge that's been lying on the seat beside her falls out of the car and lands on the concrete with a clang so loud it makes my ears ring. The resulting echo seems to go on forever. I stiffen, and so do the twins, each of us staring at the others, horrified. The security guard up front—there's no way he couldn't have heard that.

“We should forget this and go,” Whitney says as she swipes the wedge from the ground and starts stuffing it into my backpack.

“No, get in the car and get down!” Elena hisses. Whitney and I dive into the backseat at the same time, nearly smacking heads in the process. She lies across the seat, and I stuff myself into the narrow floor space. Elena shuts the front door and ducks under the steering wheel. We stay as still as we can, breathe in short, quick breaths, and try to make as little noise as possible. In the garage we can hear the echo of footsteps coming from the elevators and getting closer. I watch the window, fully expecting to see the security guard's head appear at any moment. I have this overwhelming urge to sit up and get it over with. Wondering when he'll confront us is excruciating. I see the arc of a flashlight beam travel over our car and the ones beside us, illuminating the insides for a few seconds but not stopping. A moment later the footsteps move away, fading. To be safe, we stay put for ten more minutes anyway, until both of my feet have fallen asleep and my neck is cramped. Just to be sure.

“Okay, let's finish this.” I hand Elena the drill and she sticks it into the ignition to drill out the pins inside. Even though the sound isn't loud, it's enough to jangle my nerves.

“Come on, come on,” Whitney murmurs.

“Crap!” Elena fiddles with the drill. “Okay, you two, out. I can't get this with you both breathing on me from back there. Your nerves are tweaking my nerves.”

I set the screwdriver on the seat next to Elena so she can insert it into the ignition once the pins are all drilled out. Whitney and I crawl out of the car. Then we each walk the garage in separate directions to keep a lookout. It's taking too long. Any minute I expect someone to walk through the garage: the owner of this car or another. It's so late it's not likely, but with every minute that passes I become more convinced that someone will show up. By the time we get back, the car is running and Elena is leaning on the side of it, arms crossed over her chest, looking mighty pleased with herself.

“Say it,” she whispers, looking from me to Whitney and back again.

“No, no way,” Whitney whispers back.

“Say it!” Elena demands.

Whitney rolls her eyes and exhales heavily. “Fine. You're a rock star.”

“And a goddess, don't forget that bit.” Elena grins.

“And a goddess. You are such a pain in the butt when you're gloating, you know it? Can we go now?” Whitney opens the passenger door, banging it into the car next to the Toyota, and suddenly the entire garage is alive with the blaring howl of the other car's alarm.

“Crap!” I say.

We all dive back into the car. Elena throws it into gear before we've even managed to shut our doors and peels out of the parking space and down the ramp, the tires screeching almost as loudly as the alarm. She stomps on the accelerator and we literally launch out of the garage, all four tires off the ground for a half second before the car slams down and connects with the road again. We barrel down the street, all of us screaming our heads off.

We stop screaming somewhere between the next two intersections and the freeway, but we don't talk for a while, each of us too stunned to think of anything to say. I watch the road behind us from the backseat, hoping not to see a row of police lights trailing us, but feeling like it's a distinct possibility that they'll appear at any minute. We're accelerating up the freeway on-ramp before I finally let out the breath I've been holding. We did it. Holy freaking crap, we did it!

I slump back against the cloth seats that reek of cigarette smoke and floral perfume and try to get my heart to stop convulsing. Soon we will be helping the Romero Robbers rob LL National. This is really happening.

Up front, Whitney and Elena are still silent, recovering.

“Well, that could've gone better,” I say after a while.

Elena dissolves into hysterical giggles. “Whitney, when you hit that other car with the door…Your face!” She struggles to breathe. “Wait until the guys hear.”

“No. We aren't telling them! I don't want them to think we couldn't handle this one job on our own.”

“We won't,” I say, relief making me want to laugh hysterically, too. “What happens in the parking garage stays in the parking garage.”

I wanted to make
sure she was okay. That's why I followed Lexi and her friends to the parking garage. Plus, I wanted to see her one last time before the job. After that kiss on the roof, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. The way she felt in my arms. The way I felt having her there. I thought something shifted between us—like maybe she was finally letting her guard down a little, letting me in. Thinking I could be with her had me convinced that my luck had finally changed. Yeah, Soldado was a problem still, but I had her and we had a plan. Looking into her eyes on the roof, I felt like it could all work out.

Lexi's words echo in my head, tear at my gut. “Who says he won't try to pin it on us? I'd do it to him. I won't jeopardize us for a guy.” I slip out from behind the elevator where I've been hiding. She won't trust me, so I can't trust her. This job has to happen, and I need her to help me pull it off. All this other stuff, whatever I thought was happening between us, is just a distraction. Benny, Eddie, Carlos, and I can't collapse both sides of the tunnel, and she has to let us out of the vault. We need her team.

I wait a beat and follow the girls. The way they're moving through the garage…it's too unsure. They look suspicious. Part of me hopes they get caught, but mad as I am, I can't let that happen, so I get as close as I dare and keep watch over the front of the garage. I can still make out the guard station. As long as he stays put, they should be all right.

It takes them forever to settle on a car, but once they do, I'm relieved to see that it's an old Corolla. Smart. I'm almost impressed—until they drop their tools. I check on the security guard. He's on the move. Headed this way. He'll catch them for sure. Cursing, I scramble down the row of cars to my left and head for the opposite corner of the garage. I take out my tow kit (I wanted to have it in case they needed help) and reach for the crowbar.

Smash!

I knock out the driver's side window of the car next to me. The sound is explosive, but just to ensure that the guard comes after me and not them, I smash another window. Then I can hear him, feet slapping as he runs this way. I vault over the low wall beyond the car and hang for a moment. We're up one level from the street on this side of the garage, but not high enough that I can't drop to the ground from here. I let go, land on my feet, and take off.

I double back as soon as I'm sure the guard didn't see me. Somewhere inside the garage, a car alarm is screaming. It has to be because of them. I jog toward the entrance to the garage, ears ringing, my heart in my throat. What do I do about the guard? They get caught and we're all screwed. But suddenly I see them launching out of the garage like they're in
The Fast and the Furious.

They got away. But can they on Monday? Not after what I just heard. Not if it comes down to us or them.

Last time I was
in these tunnels I was with Lexi. I can vividly remember the sweet mint of her lip balm on my mouth when we kissed. But whatever, I don't even like that flavor. I might've thought I did, but it was just the fireworks—they messed with my head. Trapping Soldado and getting all my boys out of this bank safely is my only focus from here on out.

Our ATVs speed through the main tunnel, kicking up stagnant water so my jeans are wet up to the knees. Even after several trips down here, all of the side tunnels and turns still look the same. I have to pay attention so I don't take the wrong one.

“Turn's up here,” Benny calls out. He's half sitting, half standing as he rides the ATV with the stack of duffel bags we're using bundled neatly on the rack behind him. He bounces over a seam and manages to get a little air, his front wheels going up off the ground for a second before slamming back down and releasing a giant spray of water that Eddie has to swerve to avoid.

“You get that nasty water on my face and you're toast, bro,” Eddie hollers. He's beyond jacked up because he's never been on the job with us; he's always been outside waiting in the car. The only reason that changed was because Soldado insisted he be a part of this job.

“It's too big for just the three of you. You'll need the extra hands to carry out the loot,” he said.

He just wanted us all in one place so it would be easier to take us out.

We navigate the tunnels smooth and easy, arriving at the mouth to our bank tunnel right on schedule. I park my ATV next to Eddie's. I can hear voices. Soldado's diggers are back to finish the job. I stick my gun in the back of my waistband. I've never shot at someone for real. Today I might have to if it comes down to protecting everyone. Can I do it? Pull the trigger? I hope so, but I don't want to have to. I touch my Saint Jude's and say a little prayer.
Please, please don't let it come to that.

We work our way through the tunnel. With the guys filling up the space, it feels closer than last time. I keep brushing up against the walls. Dirt falls in my hair and face. I try not to look at the spot where Lexi and I buried the rope, because the piece of it we had to wrap around the beam is visible, even though it's nearly the same color as the beam. Anyone who looked closely enough could see it.

“I don't know, man. I can't breathe in here. I got claustrophobia for real. No, no, no, no,” Eddie says, gasping. He stops midtunnel and looks back at the entrance. “I gotta go. I can't. There's no way….” He's backed out nearly a dozen times since Gabriel got hurt. But he can't back out for real and he knows it. Being down here with us is his best shot at surviving.

“You have to. Just focus on me, okay? Don't think about it.” Carlos grabs hold of Eddie's shirt and pulls him forward. Usually it's Gabriel who does that sort of stuff. It's weird without him. Unlucky. Off. I wait until they get a little ways ahead before I start walking again. I look back at the tunnel entrance one last time. The last job. This is where it really begins.

We walk the final bit in silence and enter the chamber directly under the vault. Soldado's men are covered in so much cement dust that they look like ghosts. In the middle of the ceiling is the hole they've been cutting into the vault floor this morning. In my head it looked totally different. I imagined it as this neat square, big enough to get all of us into the vault at once, but in reality it's a series of smooth circles that make this clover shape, just big enough to fit one guy at a time. Soldado's guys have a rig-mounted drill positioned right under the hole and are cutting out the last of the concrete. The dust they're kicking up creates a cloud in the room, and we slip on the masks we brought so we can breathe. The room is hot. Like deep-in-the-jungle hot. Unfortunately, the mask doesn't block out the smell of the sweat and general funk.

“How much longer?” I yell so they can hear. They talk in rapid Spanish, and then one guy holds up ten fingers and opens and closes them twice. Twenty minutes. Eddie plops down in the dirt and puts his head between his knees. The tunnel's really getting to him.

Once the concrete's gone, the guys attack the steel vault floor. The noise is muted by a drill silencer, but it's still loud enough to make me edgy.

Fifteen minutes in and Benny's phone starts ringing. Twitch. He's watching the outside of the bank so he can let us know if the vault alarm's gone off again. It's gone off dozens of times while the guys dug. Each time the cops investigate the vault, it's locked tight. Lexi said that they were blaming the malfunction on the renovation upstairs. Which is good. Exactly what we hoped for.

“Yeah?” He listens for a second, then waves at the diggers. “Bank manager's comin' in with two cops.”

The men stop the drill and we go still. Wait.

Ten minutes more go by. We barely breathe, even though there's no way they can hear us this far down. The phone goes off again and Benny jumps, answers it. “They're leaving again. All clear.”

“How many times did the alarm go off this morning?” Benny asks the digger closest to him, a guy whose hairline's so low it almost rests on his eyebrows.

He shrugs. “Four. They check the vault and go. That's it.” He gets the drill going again and then it's just a few minutes more and they break through.

We start going in as soon as the hole's big enough to fit one of us. I'm up first. I let the boys help boost me up. It's nothing like taking the bank through the front door, the way we usually do. I'm more nervous, for one thing. The guys have to feel me shaking. It's quiet up here. Eerie and pitch-dark. I turn on my head lamp. Benny hands me the duffel with the lanterns, food, and water in it, and I start setting the lights out around the room. Cash is everywhere! Whole stacks of it on movable carts, bundled and shrink-wrapped. So much cash that I can't take it all in. Talking about fifty million dollars and actually seeing it are two totally different things. I didn't realize it'd take up so much space. We might not have the manpower or the duffel bags to get it all out. Some of it will end up down in the hole with Soldado when we trap him, but the rest? The rest is coming with us. We'll need it to keep our families safe until Soldado's in jail and things start to die down.

“Call Twitch. Tell him we need more bags, dude. Like, a lot more bags,” I tell Benny, and then Carlos is popping up like some kind of mole from that arcade game, the one where you whack them with a mallet. Only he's a tight squeeze because his gut's so big.

“Ho-ly…” He stares, openmouthed.

Eddie's up next, and after we've all done our share of gaping, we get busy. At first we're throwing money into the duffels at top speed, like we're still on a two-minute clock or something. But slowly it dawns on me that we have all day and night before the bank opens again Monday morning. Hours and hours. It feels weird.

I slow down. There's a lot of work, and if we don't pace ourselves, we'll get tired too quickly. Burn out. We're going to need to save some energy for when Soldado shows up. He told us to have the cash ready to move by four in the morning so we could transport it out with plenty of time to get away before the bank opens at eight and the robbery is discovered. Nearly twenty-seven hours from now. That gives us twenty-three to do our work here.

“Dudes, take it easy, we got time,” I remind the others. “Let's drill through to the safe-deposit vault. Get the stuff there first, since it'll take the longest, then bag the rest of the cash.” I reach into my pocket and fish out the note with Harrison's safe-deposit box number on it that Lexi gave me. Benny makes a hole big enough to set a charge inside and blow the door but not mess up the tunnel or the two vaults.

“Fire in the hole,” he says, and we cover our ears and duck in the far corner of the vault. The door sparks, then bows and warps as the charge goes off and the room fills with smoke. I keep expecting to hear the phone ring, for Twitch to let us know that the alarm's gone off again and this time half the LAPD is on the way in. So when he does, I'm not surprised. We sit in the center of the vault, barely breathing, waiting once again for the all clear. At this moment the cops could be less than twenty feet away, separated from us by the steel door and that's it. The only thing that keeps me calm is knowing that the vault can't be opened once it's time-locked.

“Let's go,” Eddie says, and he's the first through the door with a crowbar dangling from one hand.

The boys start jimmying open boxes, ruining four for every one they manage to pry out at first because the frame the boxes sit in warps when you pry a box out. I knew it would take time to get them all opened, but I had no idea. It's a good twenty minutes for each box. If we were planning to hit all five hundred, the way Soldado wanted us to, it would take us forever to accomplish it at this pace. I hit Harrison's first. It's the only one I care about.

“Check this out!” Benny holds up a necklace so heavy with diamonds that it's hard to believe it's real. “Think it belongs to some movie star or somethin'?”