Page 26 of Brazen Criminals

“It’s an internet handle, not a name. And I’m still waiting on your master plan to switch with the original.”

I pull out some bread. Toast seems easy enough. “It’s coming together. RJ is still working on the spearfishing campaign to gain access to their servers.”

“It’s a museum, not a bank. Why is this taking so long? Are you sure RJ sent the emails to the right place?”

“Like I would mess up our first out-of-state job.” RJ passes me on the way to the fridge, still wet from the shower. “If we don’t want to be found out before we’re in and out, I have to go slow. Everyone notices a blown-out wall. It takes a long time to notice a loose floorboard. My access is the loose floorboard kind.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I just…I want it to go well,” Walker says.

“I hear you. Thanks for picking up my room a bit,” RJ adds.

“You noticed?”

RJ shakes his head. “Nah. Clara told me.”

Walker laughs. “Of course you didn’t notice.” He taps his pencil again. I glare. He stops. “When did you see Clara?” he asks.

“We went for a run this morning. She’ll be out for a bit yet. Apparently, she’s a long-distance runner.”

I don’t really listen to them. Woo-hoo, new hot roommate.

I jam two pieces of bread into the toaster. I’ll count myself lucky that they aren’t talking about the plan still, as I’m not positive what the plan is. It will come to me fully formed in a dream or something once I have more room on my metaphorical plate. Besides, it’s almost September. That means I have seven months before we make the hand-off with Walker’s fence.

It’ll come to me soon. Losing that money tapped all my brain power. Once the numbers have stabilized, I should have ideas again, but until then, it’s hard to think when I can’t even breathe.

The coffee finishes sputtering, and Walker and I both get our mugs. Walker tosses in some oat milk and stirs it, leaning back against the island. “Clara was planning a trip to Goodwill today to get furniture.”

“Goody for her,” I say, taking time to enjoy my third mug of coffee.

“She doesn’t have a car,” he adds.

“Then I guess it also sucks to be her.” I wait for my toast to pop.

RJ opens the fridge and pulls out his eggs. “What’s your plan for the day?” he asks.

“I’m doing a cash run this morning, then timing transfers and planning investments for the next few weeks.”

RJ and Walker exchange a look. “Which car did you bring to campus this semester?” RJ butters a pan for his eggs and waits for it to melt.

My toast pops. I consider buttering it, but instead I pull out some cold chicken rogan josh from the fridge and pile that on the toast. Indian food on toast is still breakfast, right? “I brought the pickup. I figured we might need to buy materials at some point. Why?”

Walker grins at me, the glint in his eye telling me that whatever is coming next, he’s going to find it hilarious.

It takes a second, then it clicks. “No no no,” I sputter, backing around the island away from Walker. “Don’t you dare suggest what I think you’re going to suggest. What’s wrong with your SUV?”

“She needs a bed. And a desk. And chairs, and a wardrobe. That’s not fitting in my little SUV.”

“No way. I’m not taking her someplace. I have things to do, places to be, money to move.”

RJ laughs. “Sorry, man. You’ve got shopping duty.”

Walker waves as he leaves, the same damn smirk on his face. “Have fun. I’d tell you to try not to be a jackass, but I hate to waste my breath.”

I flip him off as he heads out, but it doesn’t faze him. Grumbling, I gobble up my hot toast/cold Indian combo breakfast. It tastes fine, but my day has gone to shit. I pound the rest of my coffee, wash my dishes, and retreat to my room.

Hopefully, organizing deposits will make me feel better.

I open the floor safe under my desk and count last night’s cash, sorting it into four separate piles, none of them with the same amount of money, none of them with an even dollar amount, all of them with less than $10,000. And even that doesn’t make me feel better. This day is officially, totally and completely, bullshit.

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