Page 68 of The Company We Keep

“Hey! She asked you to clear a path,” he said, booming.

“That won’t be necessary,” Herron said, their voice chilling.

Wayles and Herron had stepped forward, Vi and Dust pulling their weapons and stepping up behind them. Dust kept his gun fixed on the hopper and Vi took the guard.

The guard’s hand was on her gun immediately, but the hopper gave her a cautioning look.

“Not worth it, Shawna. Not today,” he said, backing up. He gestured to the dolly as if to say “go ahead.”

“Smart man,” Dust said, smiling behind his respirator.

It was exactly what they wanted: a well-trained team that was intelligent enough to know that a few bags of money weren’t worth it. Nobody was going to be a hero that day. No blood needed to be shed.

Wayles took one heavy bag and Herron grabbed the other. They fell back between Vashvi and Dust.

“Sorry about that, baby,” Vashvi said to the guard. “Hope your Monday gets better after this.”

They turned back to the crowd. Remarkably, no one seemed to notice what had just happened. A big diesel dually truck had pulled up down the street at the worksite, and all attention on the corner had shifted to the pickup instead ofthe armored vehicle. They thought their work was finally coming through — and Dust instantly felt worse for the people he’d tricked into acting as their cover than he did about ripping off the bank.

Herron and Wayles had already disappeared back into the crowd. Vashvi and Dust had no need to keep blending in, and they sprinted through, dodging people left and right as they made their way towards Carrow’s sedan.

Vashvi crashedinto the back seat of the car, breathless.

She was short but damn could she move fast when she needed to. She’d outpaced Dust by a good clip, and Carrow watched as he loped behind.

Dust was just a few paces from the street — just feet away from where the sedan and safety awaited him — when a black van pulled up so fast and close that it almost blindsided him.

It wasn’t one of theirs.

Every muscle fiber in Carrow’s whole body came to life. He couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the black van. He couldn’t seeDust.

“Stay here,” he growled at Vi.

“What? Boss —”

He was already out of the sedan. Movement to his left caught his eye — Dust, sprinting away from the van. A man in a suit pounded the pavement behind him, his long legs speeding him towards Dust. They rounded a corner and Carrow lost sight of them.

“I’ve got Wayles and Herron here,” Leta said cooly into the comms. “What now, boss?”

Carrow was pumping his legs, was working on instinct, brandishing his gun and sprinting down the pavement. The chatter in his ear only barely registered.

“Boss is on the move, Leta,” Vashvi said. “Hang close until I touch back, ok? We might need more manpower here.”

Dust’s mindraced as he tried to flee. He had memorized the streets and alleyways around the day’s score, but everything became jumbled the minute he started running from the van full of men from AIIB.

He’d barely had time to register what was happening. The van had been mere inches away from broadsiding him. Carrow and his escape had been so goddamn close before that van had cut him off and opened up to reveal Dust’s worst nightmare.

His lungs on fire, Dust took a hard left around a blind corner. The man was at his heels — and he’d run himself into a dead goddamn end: a brick wall, two locked doors, and a line of dumpsters. This was it. In the second he had to prepare before the agent rounded the corner, Dust pulled his handgun, took a strong stance, and aimed straight at the man who would soon be barreling towards him.

The agent appeared and trotted to a stop, holding his hands up immediately at the sight of Dust’s gun.

“Dustin, we just need to talk to you.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re all broken records with the talk shit,” Dust said, trying to control his shaking muscles. He had never felt so scared. This would be the last day — the end of it all.

“You’re not in any trouble,” the man insisted, stepping closer.

“Stay where you are,” Dust commanded.

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