Page 66 of Rafael

As he hurried back across the house, he heard voices. His heartbeat slammed to a stop, then raced ahead. He slipped into the shadows and listened.

The soft murmur was Gisele. The other was decidedly male.

Rafael checked his cell phone.

No service. He couldn’t even call for backup.

Squaring his shoulders, he inched forward, carefully placing his feet to avoid squeaky floorboards.

As he neared the room where he’d left Gisele, hepaused behind a potted Ficus tree. From where he stood, he could make out what the man was saying and see into the room.

The man with the shaggy hair and gray jacket held a gun pointed at Gisele.

Caney.

“Of course, the drawer won’t open,” he said with a sneer in his tone. “I glued it shut to keep the contents safe until I could return.”

Holding a gun in front of him, he tried to move the drawer with his free hand. “I guess it’s a good thing it’s stuck. It kept people out all these years.” He rocked the top-heavy unit until it teetered precariously. With a final shove, the register fell, crashing to the floor, making the entire house shudder.

The brass register took the brunt of the fall, bashing into a nearby antique end table, shattering it. The wooden cabinet remained intact.

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” Caney grumbled. He raised his foot and stomped the cabinet.

Nothing broke free.

He stomped again.

All the while Caney stomped, Gisele’s gaze remained on the doorway into the hall.

Rafael tensed and bunched his muscles, preparing to rush into the room and overpower Caney before he could harm Gisele.

As he straightened, the front door slammed open, and two bulldozer-sized men clomped in.

Rafael shrank back into the leaves of the Ficus tree.

Bulldozer One called out in a thundering voice, “Caney!”

Caney muttered a curse from within the room containing the cash register.

The two mafia thugs made their way down the hall, carrying handguns at the ready and looking into room after room on either side until they found their guy, Caney.

“Gentleman,” Caney said. “You’re just in time.”

Bulldozer One pointed his gun at Caney. “The boss wants his money. Yesterday.”

“I was in the process of getting it.” Caney pointed his pistol at the cabinet lying on its side. “It’s in that.”

“Then get it out,” the bulldozer demanded.

“Apparently, they built furniture to last in the early nineteen hundreds.” Caney raised his eyebrows. “Happen to have a sledgehammer?”

Bulldozer One’s eyes narrowed.

Caney continued, “No? Then I’ll need to find one and break the wood. No one’s getting anything out of it until then.”

The more talkative man of the two tanks motioned for the other one to walk up to the cabinet.

One mighty stomp from the heavier-set guy and the base of the wooden cabinet splintered. A secondeffectively placed stomp broke the cabinet into pieces.

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